The Journey to Mordhaus
by ConstantCogDis
Summary: Toki Wartooth decides to audition for the death metal band Dethklok, against all odds. This story follows him through three life changing days, leading up to his 18th birthday... then continues. (originally 3 part series being expanded) Skwistok-Skwisgaar/Toki pairing. Mature content (sexual content/drug and alcohol use/innuendo)
1. My Name is Toki

Chapter One: My Name is Toki (The Journey to Mordhaus series)

(Italics indicate Norwegian/Swedish)

He stood outside the large warehouse, eyes wide, worrying his bottom lip with his teeth. His threadbare guitar strap dug uncomfortably into his neck, and he lifted a hand to adjust it. His heart began to thud in his chest, and sweat pearled on his brow, dripping down the sides of his face. He leaned against the side of the wall, trying to regain his equilibrium. He would not, could not, throw up right now. Toki Wartooth sensed he was on the precipice of something important. He watched the seemingly endless stream of defeated guitarists as they left the warehouse, and for a moment, he considered turning around and following them, but he couldn't shake the feeling that he should at least go in, late or not. If he didn't get the job… well, he didn't want to think about that. Toki was a hopeless optimist. Besides, the Floridian streets were a dangerous place for a teenage boy, especially at night, and the sun was starting to set. It would be dark sooner than later, and he was already there… so he closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and banged his fist on the heavy metal doors.

BOOM BOOM BOOM

Skwisgaar Skwigelf was resting on his laurels, having been heralded by his bandmates as a 'glowing guitar god', enjoying the (much deserved, in his opinion), praise, letting the words echo in his head for a moment, savoring them. He knew that Dethklok was on it's way to the top, and he wanted nothing more than to shine as the only guitarist in the band. After what Magnus had put them through, the horror of watching him stab Nathan Explosion, the front man, quite literally in the back, he was ready to close that chapter and start fresh with himself as the only guitarist. (Save Murderface, but as a bass player, Skwisgaar obviously didn't concern himself overmuch with him).

BOOM BOOM BOOM

"SOMEONE KEEPS ON KNOCKING! SOMEONE'S AT THE DOOR! LET THEM IN RIGHT NOW! THERE APPEARS TO BE ONE MORE!" Nathan shouted with a gusto that shook Skwisgaar out of his self-absorbed fog. Nathan's voice was nothing if not dramatic and jarring. Four pairs of eyes bore those of the teenage boy who was pulling a silly, Norwegian style cap off his head. He had chin length, light brown hair that obviously hadn't been washed in a while, an equally dirty shirt that sported stains of long forgotten origin, jeans, and a pair of well-worn black boots. When he looked up at the members of Dethklok, an apology shone in his light blue eyes. 'Hello, I'm sorrys, I got lost along the way. My name is Tokis, I am just a poor boy from Norway. I'm so sad I missed my auditions appointments today…" Toki quickly glanced down at his feet in admonishment, then back up at the men standing before him, arms crossed, faces unreadable. "But I think you should give me a chance anyhows… because I has this feeling…" Then men before him continued to glare at him, unimpressed. He was losing them. He knew he wouldn't have their attention for much longer. "Something tells me this was meant to be," he continued deciding to throw all his cards on the table at that point. He had nothing to lose. "Do you feel this…electricity? Gives me this chance!" he shouted, bowing before the members of Dethklok, who continued to glare at him silently. "Oh, no," he thought to himself. What if they had already chosen someone? He was still cruising too high on the adrenaline to think to ask that question before he approached them. His guts clenched, and he very nearly puked. Then, a voice wafted out from the shadows, and Skwisgaar, who had been sitting with his guitar in his lap, stood to his feet. He was a very tall man with long blonde hair and burning sapphire eyes, dressed in white from head to toe. He studied the boy carefully. The poor kid looked like he hadn't eaten in days. He couldn't help but have a little sympathy for him. He remembered his own hungry days (and nights) on the streets when he was a kid. His ego had received a good, thorough stroking when he obliterated all the other hopefuls who'd auditioned earlier, and he decided that he could call it an act of charity, allowing this kid a shot at the 'big time'. He smiled to himself at his own generosity.

"All right, you seems so nice, it's a shames you must go down this ways…"

Skwisgaar rose and wielded his guitar, immediately filling the air with a flawless solo. Toki's nearly lost his bearings, but fought back his nerves. If he choked now, it was back to the filthy streets, so he ripped out his Flying V and began to shred riffs that were equally impressive to those of the veteran guitarist, much to the surprise of everyone in the room. Toki glided through melodies, countermelodies, blending in with the veteran guitarist's song so flawlessly that it was stunning. Eyebrows hit the ceiling. Skwisgaar's forehead began to sheen with sweat. The boy was far better than he anticipated, much better than any other the other hopefuls. He was pushing him to his limits creatively and keeping up with him with a less refined, yet equally effective style. "This kid's never had formal training…" Skwisgaar thought to himself, fast fingers flying, determined not to be conquered by this teenage boy off the street. The music continued to swell, and Skwisgaar realized he'd never been pushed to play so well in his life The intensity of the music increased until Toki's inexperience finally caused him to lose his fingering. His facial expression switched from one of determination to one of horror, and he dropped to his knees. He knew the members of the band were talking to him, but he couldn't hear them through the blood pounding in his ears. His pulse throbbed in his sore wrists, blood spotted his already calloused fingertips. He stood, gathered his gear, turned and headed for the door. He would not humiliate himself further by bursting into tears in front of the other men. He decided to preoccupy himself with the thought of where he would sleep that night, what he would have to endure when the sun went down, tears burning in his eyes. Then, he heard a voice behind him. "But… before you leaves, you must understands…" Skwisgaar had gotten his way. Dethklok was officially a four piece band now. But he knew that there was something very special about this kid. He was right about the electricity in the air. He looked down at his own sore fingers, and back up at the kid. "No one's ever mades me plays this well," he said, "so… I wants you in this band!"

Toki couldn't believe what he just heard. "This can't be real. The fastest guitarist in the world can't be welcoming me into the band…" Toki thought. But Skwisgaar was looking at him with a smile, hands outstretched like he was actually opening a door. Toki's jaw dropped open in a look of astonished glee as he studied his new bandmates. The drummer with the red dreads. The front man with the black hair and piercing green eyes. The bassist with the… vest… and finally, unerringly, he looked back up into the sapphire colored eyes of the blonde man who'd just given him hope for tomorrow. 'He actually does look like a god," Toki thought to himself. His new band mates, both surprised and pleased with Skwisgaar's decision, introduced themselves to the shell shocked kid, who, upon closer inspection, was even thinner and filthier than they expected. "HOW OLD ARE YOU?" asked Nathan in his usual growl, not thinking of how intimidating the sound of his voice might be to someone who wasn't used to it. Toki shrunk himself back a little, and answered, "ah… eighteens… in a couple of days." "Shit! He's not even old enough to drink yet!" proclaimed Murderface in his irritated lisp. "Shut up a minute, huh, Murderface! I want to talk to the kid!" Pickles's wild accent, courtesy of Tomahawk, Wisconsin was almost as hard for Toki to decipher as Murderface's garbled speech. "How did you get here?" Skwisgaar noticed that Toki was having a little trouble understanding the both of them, just standing there, staring at them with the same awe-struck, wide-eyed grin. It had become disconcerting. His eyes were a little too wide, a little too glassy. "Uh, Tokis, cans you hears me? Tokis?" Skwisgaar inquired. As if on command, Toki turned to Skwisgaar, opened his mouth to speak, but saw the world spin and then go black as he collapsed in a heap on the floor of the warehouse.

When Toki opened his eyes again, he was in an unfamiliar bed. Quickly, he tried to sit up, and realized that was a big mistake. Jackhammers pounded miserable rhythms into his brain, and the room began to spin before his eyes. He lay back down, moaning against the pain. "Too soon, you stupid idiot," he thought to himself. He knew what a concussion felt like. He had been given enough of them, after all. His parents were religious zealots who beat, neglected, and abused him. They tortured him in every conceivable and inconceivable way his whole life. That was the reason he fled to the US in the first place. He wanted to put as much distance between them and himself as possible. He lifted a hand to his head, finding that he was attached to an IV. "Hey, hey dood! You're awake!" said a voice, the voice of the red dreadlocked drummer, Pickles. "Way to make an impression! I've never seen a dood faint before!" Toki's cheeks burned. "What happeneds? Where ares we?" Toki asked. "We are at Mordhaus, home of Dethklok," Pickles answered. "Moord-haws?" attempted Toki, earning a chuckle from Pickles. Pickles rose and yelled down the hall, "HEY! HE'S AWAKE! CHARLES! GET YOUR ASS IN HERE, DOOD!" Toki flinched at the volume of the good-natured shout. A clean-cut man in a suit quickly appeared in the doorway, studying Toki through a pair of wire-rimmed glasses. "Hi, ah, it's nice to meet you. I'm Charles Offdensen, Dethklok's manager and lawyer." Manners had him automatically sticking his hand out to shake, but when he noticed the pallor, he thought better of it. Instead, he slowly helped Toki sit up and propped him on a few pillows. "It would seem that you and I will be working together quite a bit. Do you, ah, remember what happened?" Charles asked. Toki struggled to concentrate on his words through the buzzing in his head. "I was late for my auditions, but they lets me auditions still. The guitarist say he wants me in the bands. Then I falls down and I wakes up here," Toki said. "Well, it's a good thing the boys got you here when they did. You were severely dehydrated and malnourished, in addition to the mild concussion from the fall," said Charles. He snapped his fingers and a hooded figure appeared beside him. "Yes, sire?" asked the hooded figure. "Bring something for the kid to eat, something light," Charles commanded. "At once, my lord", replied the hooded figure, and he hastily left the room. Toki's brows shot up. Pickles began chucking again at Toki's expression. "That's a Klokateer, dood. They're our servants." Pickles followed the Klokateer out of the room, barking orders. Toki was spellbound. Less than 24 hours prior, he was a homeless street kid. Now he was in the same room as people who had servants. SERVANTS! He would have suspected he was dreaming, if it weren't for the pain throbbing in his head. "So, Toki…ah… I didn't catch your last name," said Charles. "Wartooth," Toki supplied. "My name ams Toki Wartooth. I ams from Norway." "Well, Mr. Wartooth, there are some, ah, legal matters that we will need to attend to as soon as you are feeling better. Passport, visa, identification, that sort of thing. Can you provide us with them?" Toki's eyes widened. He had fled Norway with nothing but the clothes on his back and his beloved guitar. It took a great deal of careful planning, tucking money away bit by bit, praying that he wouldn't get caught. The night he left was after a particularly brutal beating. His father's rages were becoming worse and worse. The old man had completely lost touch with reality. He was convinced his son was the harbinger of death, and he and Toki's mother beat him viciously and forced him to spend days at a time in a deep well that he referred to as 'the punishment hole'. He thought about the patchwork of scars on his back. He knew if he didn't escape, his father would have killed him. Suddenly, he was filled with dread. What if they sent him back to Norway? Back to...them?! He looked up at Charles with terror in his eyes and said, "I don'ts know. But I can'ts go back! I can'ts!" Toki began speaking in a panicked mixture of Norwegian and English. "Toki, it's alright. Please calm down. There, there. We aren't planning to send you back." Toki was no longer listening in his panic. Charles wracked his brain, not being a very nurturing person to begin with, which is why he had Pickles sitting guard until he woke. Pickles possessed an undeniable, guileless charm, a characteristic that Charles often envied. The Klokateer entered the room with Toki's food. Charles gestured for the food to be placed on a bedside table and dismissed him. "Tokis, what ams wrongs?" came a familiar voice in the doorway. Skwisgaar heard the panicked Norwegian ramblings from down the hall, a language similar to his own native Swedish. What he had heard really concerned him. It sounded like, "I will die by my own hand before I go back!" The band had reiterated their pact to stay out of each other's personal lives when Pickles came out of Toki's room to give them a status report. But when the terrified jumble of Norwegian and English came echoing down the hall, it touched something deep within Skwisgaar. It irritated him, but he rose from the hot tub and padded down the hall nevertheless.

Charles was relieved he was there to try to help calm the situation, as his own attempts were fruitless. He was getting no information, and the kid still wasn't eating. He watched curiously as Skwisgaar strode over to Toki's bed, sat down beside him, and gently took his face in his hands. Toki was shocked speechless. When Skwisgaar began speaking, his tone was soft and comforting.

_S: Little Toki, what is wrong?_

Toki stared into the eyes of the man who was slightly butchering his native tongue in an attempt to calm him. That kindness, in addition to the warmth of the hands gently holding his face, helped him find his center. But he was still so afraid.

_T: I am not a legal citizen. He is going to send me back! I can't go back! If I do, they will kill me! Please help me! I am so afraid._

Skwisgaar looked at Toki then, taking in his red-rimmed eyes, wide and glossy with a combination of terror and pain. He found himself doing something very out of character, giving a damn.

_S: Oh, Little Toki. We are not sending you back to Norway. We just found you!_

_T: But what about my papers…_

_S: Charles is going to take care of it. Try to relax and eat some food. You look like death._

Skwisgaar took his hands off Toki's cheeks, stood, and gestured toward the neglected tray. Toki picked up the broth and took a few slow, lukewarm sips, much to Charles's relief. "Ah, what did he say, Skwisgaar?" asked Charles, who'd been watching the exchange between the Scandinavians with interest, but without comment. Skwisgaar's gentle treatment of Toki was very uncharacteristic, and Charles was fascinated. "He said he ams not heres legally. He don't's has papers." He looked back at Toki, who was currently staring at his own reflection in the bowl of broth. He looked so lost, so afraid. "Charles, we can'ts let hims get sents back to Norways," he said in a loud whisper. "I thinks sometinks very bad happens to him there." He had noticed a well of deep torment in the kid's eyes. That, and the shouted threats of suicide had Skwisgaar more than a little concerned for him. "Just let me handle that, Skwisgaar, " Charles responded, as they looked over at Toki, then back at each other. "Ah, Skwisgaar, can you tell him that he doesn't have to be afraid? You are the only one who can, ah, understand him. Just watch out for him, maybe help him out a little." Skwisgaar rolled his eyes, as he was wont to do, and said, "Yeah, sures. Just lets me do alls the work around heres." There was little malice in the complaint, so Charles felt he was leaving him in capable hands. "Thank you Skwisgaar. I'm going to make a few phone calls and take care of this, ah, situation." He was going to have to call in quite a few favors to get Toki's papers taken care of, but there was nothing he wouldn't do to secure the future of Dethklok, his self proclaimed 'bread and butter'.

After Charles left the room, Skwisgaar sat back down on the bed and faced Toki.

_S: So, Little Toki, I see you are not eating much._

_T: I am not very hungry._

_S: Charles is going to take care of everything. You have nothing to be afraid of anymore._

Toki looked up from his broth, and into the eyes of the beautiful Swedish man. There was kindness there. True kindness. Toki could do nothing but trust.

_T: If you promise me, I will believe what you say._

Skwisgaar saw the trust in the young man's eyes. Much to his own surprise, he found himself wanting to lower his lips to Toki's forehead and press them there until the fear left his face. He refrained.

_S: Then believe me, you are safe here. Charles knows what he's doing. Now will you please eat the rest of your food? It certainly cannot taste that bad!_

Toki could've laughed. Not long ago, he was begging for change and dumpster diving. Too bad his stomach felt like the seventh circle of hell at the very moment he finally had access to a meal. Still, though, he would try. His guitar god asked him to. He looked up at Skwisgaar with an almost angelic expression, picked up the broth and took a big sip.

_S: Good job, Little Toki. You are too thin._

_T: You are one to talk! You look like the skeleton of a Viking!_

Toki's voice dripped with good-natured sarcasm. He grinned wickedly at Skwisgaar, a quick flash of straight, white teeth, and took another sip of his quickly cooling broth. Skwisgaar felt a twist in his heart. He decided not to overthink it at the moment. Thinking had never been his strong suit, anyway. He stood to leave.

_T: Where are you going, Skwisgaar?_

_S: I am going back to the hot tub. It's in the common room._

_T: A hot tub? Inside? Wowee!_

Skwisgaar couldn't help but snort at Toki's enthusiastic outburst. He was almost finished with his broth, and color was slowly coming back to his hollow cheeks.

_S: There is much for you to see in Mordhaus when you are feeling better. And you can summon a Klokateer to get you anything you need at any time._

_T: Like a servant?_

_S: Yes_

_T: Wowee…_

_S: I will see you around, Little Toki._

Skwisgaar left the room, headed for the hot tub. He was feeling drained. He grabbed his electric guitar and settled in his usual spot with the other guys. "How's he doing?" asked Pickles. "YEAH, IS HE GOING TO LIVE?" growled Nathan. "Yes, Natans, he is goings to live." "He sure took a hard knock to the head," commented Pickles. "Why does everyone care so much about the new guy?! None of you would care if it were ME who was sick," slurred Murderface, complaining more to hear the sound of his own voice than anything. "Maybe I should just kill myself!" "Shut(s) up, Murderface," came the unison response from his band mates "Fuck every one of you. Fuck every one of you with a sandpaper dildo!" he yelled. "You the one who ams dildos, Murderface," said Skwisgaar with a sneer as he hammered out scales and arpeggios on his guitar, water lightly splashing his fingers as he played.

His band mates continued with their usual banter, but Skwisgaar found himself getting out of the hot tub, wrapping up in a towel, and heading for his room. He needed a little time to himself. He felt overwhelmed by the events of the past 24 hours. Every time he thought of his new band mate, he felt a weird little twist in his heart. He wasn't ready to deal with it. He collapsed onto his gigantic bed and pulled a bottle of vodka seemingly out of thin air. He was feeling very uncomfortable at the moment. He didn't know why he felt drawn to the kid, and he didn't care to think about it. "To hell with it," he thought, and unscrewed the cap and took a healthy slug. He stayed that way for a little while, fingers flying on his guitar strings, pausing only to take another drag from the bottle. After awhile, his normal scales, arpeggios, and Dethklok tunes turned into a strange, melancholy melody that he'd never heard aloud before, but had recently begun playing in his head. "This ams so not metals," he thought aloud, as his fingers caressing the guitar strings like a lover. The music that poured from his instrument was so different from the brutal riffs he usually played. He was glad no one was there to overhear. He would have been so embarrassed.

Down the hall, Toki lay in his new bed, staring at the clock. It was 8:00 PM. They'd removed his IVs, but he still had to take a few pain pills, administered by a Klokateer who was apparently a nurse. He was on temporary bed rest, which was fine with him, because moving around too much made his head hurt. He was a member of Dethklok now. His life would never be the same again. He felt simultaneously terrified and exhilarated. The Swedish guitarist had offered him comfort, much to his surprise. He wasn't used to catching many breaks. He looked around the huge room. This was his bedroom now. He didn't remember if he'd ever had a place to call his own before. A bed all to himself with clean sheets and fluffy pillows. He was safe for the night, a luxury he hadn't experienced in quite a while. The man in the suit was going to help him, Skwisgaar had promised. Pickles seemed pretty nice, too. He just couldn't believe his luck. Maybe he'd finally found a home, a family. Maybe things were finally going to get a little better for Toki.

Wrapped in clean sheets and clutching a pillow to his chest, Toki fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

Skwisgaar knew it was a little creepy, but he couldn't resist. After everyone else fell asleep, he snuck out of his room and crept down the hall. The door to Toki's room was wide open. He ducked his head in, eyes scanning the room. He noticed that some genius Klokateer had dug up a pretty cool nightlight in the shape of a dragon for Toki from the Dethklok Merch. "I guess he's a still afraid of the dark," he thought. He watched Toki's slow, even breaths, and wondered what the hell he was doing standing there watching him sleep. He cursed himself silently and turned and walked back to his room. Something was seriously whacked out in his brain ever since Toki's audition. He snapped his fingers and commanded a Klokateer to bring him another bottle of liquor. He quickly complied, and Skwisgaar headed back to his room and drank himself into oblivion.

That night, Skwisgaar dreamed of a falcon and a white horse running side by side in perfect harmony.


	2. I Am Not a Bumblebee!

**Chapter Two: I am Not a Bumblebee! **(The Journey to Mordhaus series)

Italics indicate Norwedgian/Swedish

Skwisgaar Skwigelf woke up at 3 pm convinced he was dying. His liver ached. His stomach rolled nastily. He did not bother trying to sit up, instead scooting over to the nearest side of the bed to expel the contents of his stomach onto the floor. After a few minutes of violent retching, he rolled onto his back and stared at the pathetic reflection in the mirror above his bed. He shut his eyes quickly. He was a vain man. He did not like seeing himself looking out of sorts. The same Klokateer that provided him with the liquor had been thoughtful enough to leave several aspirin and a large bottle of water on his bedside table. Gratefully, he snagged the pills, tossed them in his mouth, and thirstily guzzled down the water. He let the aspirin take the edge off of the misery and slowly made his way out of the bed. He splashed water on his face and leaned his head against the mirror. He looked about as good as he felt, which was horrible. Why did he drink so much last night… alone in his dark room… Toki. It all came back to him. He rubbed the palm of his hand against his closed eyes. The terrified kid he invited into Dethklok yesterday. Something about Toki really got under Skwisgaar's skin. Maybe it was the fact that Toki was a tortured soul, and Skwisgaar had a bit of a hero complex. That seemed like a reasonable enough explanation to him, but it didn't explain why he spent the night drinking until the sun came up. Why couldn't he sleep? Sure, he wanted to help the kid. He admired his talent. He reminded himself to ask Toki about how he learned to play. Fuck! Why was this kid on his mind so heavily? He grabbed the jeans he'd worn the day before off the back of the chair and pulled them on, not bothering with a shirt or shoes. He poured himself into a chair in the kitchen and ordered the chef to make him something to eat. The smell of the crepes that the new French chef was making drew in the eternally hungry Murderface, who walked up to slap a hand on Skwisgaar's back. "What's cooki … OH MY GOD, DUDE!" he exclaimed as he drew away, pinching his nose with his forefinger and thumb like a child. "You smell like the fucking bar room floor! They have got showers in Sweden, right? Juh-heeez!" "Shuts up, Murderface! You smells like the insides of a rottings moose carcass!" retorded the blonde guitarist, ending on a groan of pain from the effort of returning the jab. "What's the matter, Skwisgaar? Back on your period? This must be hard on you, being such a beautiful lady and all..." "THAT'S IT, YOU FATS PIECES OF SHITS!" Skwisgaar shouted as he lept up and punched Murderface square in the nose. "Holy shit! I think you broke my fucking nose!" Murderface screamed, putting a hand to his nose, which had begun to bleed profusely. He grabbed a handful of paper towels and fled the kitchen to tend to his nose, muttering curses under his breath and shouting about revenge or something. Skwisgaar was too tired to listen. He dropped his head to the table. The chef placed the crepes directly across from him and got back to work. "Ugh, stupid Toki," he thought. "Stupid Toki, stupid me, stupid everything. Stupid, stupid, stupid."

Toki, on the other hand, was having a fine day. He was finally allowed to eat solid, albeit bland, food that morning. He was ready to start eating real food again. He really, really, really wanted a doughnut. And a pizza. And five hamburgers. And all the chocolate the world had to offer. Since he'd arrived in the US, this was the first time that he ever had easy access to food. Not just any food, food cooked by a French chef. What he wanted more than anything was something packed with sugar. Sugar was one of his favorite things in the world. He'd heard a ruckus in the kitchen and headed that way. He smelled powdered sugar, something he had a particular weakness for, and sniffed the air dramatically as he meandered to the kitchen.

He crashed into Murderface as he rounded the corner, who had a clutch of paper towels held up to his bleeding nose. "Oh, wowee, Murderface! You gots bloods on you! Ams you hurt?" "Shut up you little dildo licker! Just get out of my way!" He shoved Toki out of his path and stomped out. That's when he saw Skwisgaar with his head on the table. He rushed over to his side. "Skwisgaar, Skwisgaar, ams you okays? What happens?" he asked, throwing an arm over his shoulders. He stepped back at the smell of alcohol and the irritated grunt. "Oh, poor Skwisgaar! You ams havings too much to drinks last nights?" The hungover man glared at the ridiculously cheerful teenager across the table through burning red eyes. "I just punched Murderface and almost breaks his nose. If you don'ts shuts up now, I do the sames to yous!" he threatened. Toki grinned, completely nonplussed. In fact, he was quite amused at the turn of events. He was the miserable one the day before. He took the seat across from Skwisgaar, who had put his head back on the table. Toki grabbed the glass of orange juice and took a big gulp. Then he grabbed the fork and started eating one of the crepes. He felt the explosion of sugar and fruit from his taste buds to the tips of his toes. He was sure it was the best thing he'd ever tasted.

_S: Little Toki, you are eating my crepes. Do you have a death wish today?_

Toki grinned wickedly and stuffed another bite into his mouth.

_S: So yesterday you are on death's door, and now you tread on it again by eating the crepes of a hungover man?_

T: (after swallowing) _Yes. They are good, and they are wasted on you. You let them get cold._

Skwisgaar snatched the fork from Toki, wiped it off gingerly on a napkin, and began shoveling in crepes as though his life depended on it.

S: (mouth full of food) _These are mine. Get your own, you horse's arse._

Toki grabbed a pinch off Skwisgaar's plate and ate it with dramatic relish.

T: _Mmm… This is just so good._

He stuck his fingers back in the crepes, and began slowly licking his fingers. Skwisgaar nearly choked when his throat dried up watching Toki eating. At this point, he was ready to surrender the whole plate just to watch him suck the powdered sugar off his fingers and roll his eyes in sinfully hedonistic glee. "He's so damn cute," Skwisgaar thought.

T: _Are you just going to let me eat all of your food without a fight?_

There was a challenge in Toki's eye. Skwisgaar was teetering on a very fine line. This was not the first time he found himself attracted to another man. He quite enjoyed threesomes, particularly when MDMA was involved. In fact, that was how he met Pickles. They were at an afterparty just before Dethklok was formed, and they were involved in very brief, drug fueled affair. This was not common knowledge. Skwisgaar shook his head quickly in an attempt to align his thoughts. He couldn't think straight, watching Toki eating crepes with his fingers, looking at him with that big, goofy smile. He had sugar all over his face at this point, even in his hair. He was eating messily in an attempt to cheer Skwisgaar up, not knowing that he was the cause of Skwisgaar's current misery. He realized that it was not working, so he stopped playing with his food and he took Skwisgaar's hands into his own, not giving the stickiness a second thought.

_T: Skwisgaar, will you tell me what is wrong? You look unhappy._

_S: Sweet Toki, I am not unhappy. I am hungover and my fist hurts from punching Murderface._

Toki looked into Skwisgaar's eyes. He had no idea that Skwisgaar's heart was pounding so hard that he wondered if it would burst out of his chest. The older man grabbed the younger man's chin in his hand, getting eye to eye with him. Pale blue eyes locked with sapphire ones, and electricity crackled through the air, much like it did in the warehouse at Toki's audition. A growl escaped the blonde's throat before he could stop it. Toki felt like a volcano waiting to erupt. He licked his lips and swallowed. Skwigaar took a deep breath, let go of Toki's chin, and leaned back across to his side of the table, leaving the younger man breathless and confused. The older man couldn't formulate a coherent thought to save his life. All he could think of was the image of Toki sucking his fingers, licking his lips, looking at him with expectant eyes, grabbing his hands with his sticky fingers... He became furious with himself. "What are you doing! This is a kid! A kid who looks up to you," he chided himself. He had no business feeling the way he felt. He wanted to pick him up and carry him off to his bedroom and do all manner of things he wasn't convinced the younger man would want to do. This was one of the most frustrating experiences of his life. He was a man used to instant gratification.

_S: I am sorry for grabbing your face like that. I do not mean to make you uncomfortable._

_T: I was not uncomfortable until you drew away._

Toki flashed a wicked grin and leaned in close, placing a gentle hand on his cheek, much like Skwisgaar did when he was hysterical the day before. He could feel Skwisgaar's breath on his lips.

_S: Toki. Back off. You do not know what you are doing._

_T: If you tell me you want me to back away, I will believe you._

Skwisgaar was torn. He did not want to lie to Toki, but he did not want to do anything they would both regret. But his pride would not let him be the first to back down.

_S: How can you stand my disgusting binge drinking breath?_

_T: I lived on the streets. I have smelled much worse._

They sat there like that for five unbearably long seconds, until Toki's eyes slowly closed and he gently laid his lips against Skwisgaar's, and that thin thread of control Skwisgaar had been clinging to snapped. He grabbed the boy by the nape of his neck and kissed him almost to the point of violence. Toki made soft mewling sounds in the back of his throat. He could not believe what was happening. He softened under the older man's lips, allowing him easier access. This was the first time anyone had ever kissed him, the first time he had ever wanted anyone to kiss anyone. Suddenly, Skwisgaar released him and slid back to his chair, trying yet again to form a coherent thought. Toki kissed him, and he had tasted like berries and sugar…

_S: This is not a good idea. You are so young!_

_T: Is my age really the issue here?_

They locked eyes again, but Skwisgaar couldn't answer. Of course, the age was an issue, but it was not the only one. Skwisgaar had never been truly intimate with anyone in his entire life. Sex was one thing. It was easy. This was not easy. Still, he did not want to lie to him.

_S: It is one of the issues. I care about you. I do not want to be responsible for causing you any pain._

Toki looked at the older man. 24 hours ago, give or take, he was a homeless boy who never felt a gentle touch in his life. Now he was kissing his beautiful guitar god. Toki smiled happily at Skwisgaar, who's face had taken a look of shame. Toki stiffened his shoulders, but the smile did not leave his face.

_T: Shame does not look very good on you, Skwisgaar._

Skwisgaar's jaw dropped. He had not expected Toki to be so brutally honest. He should have known. Dethklok and brutality go hand in hand.

_T: There is so little happiness in life, so little pleasure. Can we not just enjoy it when it comes our way?_

Skwisgaar could hardly believe his ears. What Toki said was inarguable… on both points, he admitted to himself, albeit begrudgingly. This time, he smiled at Toki.

_S: You are wise beyond your years. But that doesn't make you any less of a little Bumblebee._

Toki's reddened from tip to tail at the term of endearment. He scrunched his face up and stiffened his shoulders in a painfully adorable way. Skwisgaar's heart skipped a beat. "He is just so damn cute!" he thought again.

_T: I AM NOT A LITTLE BUMBLEBEE! I AM NOT A CHILD!_

He stuck his tongue out at Skwisgaar in the maturest of manners. Skwisgaar had been doubled over with laughter from the moment his heartbeat picked up. Toki crossed his arms in front of his chest and huffed out an exasperated breath. He was NOT going to allow Skwisgaar to treat him like a child.

_S: Oh, little Bumblebee…_

_T: I AM NOT A BUMBLEBEE!_

Skwisgaar just kept laughing. He had tears in his eyes. His stomach hurt.

_S: You are a Bumblebee. I can tell you enjoy sweet, beautiful things…_

_T: Shut up, Skwisgaar. I am not a bumblebee! I am not a child!_

At least he stopped yelling for the moment.

_S: I do not mean to offend you. I meant it as a compliment. You are bouncy and cute like a bumblebee._

"A compliment?" Toki thought. The way Skwisgaar said Bumblebee was affectionate.

_T: Must you always call me that?_

_S: Not necessarily. Only when you behave yourself._

Toki rolled his eyes at Skwisgaar. He suddenly felt a little crowded, so he stood to leave the kitchen.

_S: What is wrong with you? Are you okay?_

_T: Yes, I am okay. I think I should wash my hands._

They both looked down at their hands, still sticky from the crepes. Toki needed some space. He left the kitchen and headed toward his bathroom. He washed his hands and studied his reflection in the mirror for a moment. It was true, he enjoyed many childish things, but that was a part of who he was. He would not change that for anyone. But maybe he could find a way to look a little older. He decided that he would try to grow some facial hair. He rubbed his chin. No, not a beard. Something else, something different. He decided to head to the common room. He wanted to sit in the hot tub and watch the TV with the other guys.

Skwisgaar sat at the kitchen table for a few more moments, trying not to overthink the fact that he felt that little twist in his heart. He decided that he needed to practice, instead. They would be heading into the studio tomorrow. It would be their first recording session with Toki and he was going to have to teach him everything. He resigned himself to an early morning tomorrow, rose from the table, and went to his room to reinvent a few of the lines to fit Toki's style a little better. Though he complained about writing all the guitar parts, including the bass parts, acquiring the task from Magnus after he was kicked out was a pure pleasure. He finally felt that he had some creative input in the music. His fingers itched to play the haunting melody he played the night before, but he pushed it out of his mind. "Later," he thought. He got to work tweaking the lines, and before long, he was lost in the task. Hours felt like minutes when he was creating music, but eventually he looked at the clock, surprised at how much time had passed. He stood up, stretched his arms over his head, popped his neck, grabbed his Explorer, and headed for the hot tub. The other guys should be in there by now.

When Toki walked into the common room, he saw Pickles, Murderface, and Nathan in the hot tub. He climbed in next to Nathan. His band mates were too busy arguing with one another to really acknowledge him with more than a nod or a grunt in his direction. Toki began to relax, enjoying the very rare luxury of the warm, bubbling water on his skin and enjoyed the sounds of his band mate's voices as they argued about something he didn't understand. Maybe a sporting event? "Whatever..." he thought. About few hours later, Skwisgaar entered the common room, carrying a favored Gibson. He plunked down in the hot tub right next to Toki, close enough to the outside for the neck of his guitar to stick out of the water, as though practicing with an unplugged electric guitar in the hot tub was the most normal thing in the world. The argument stopped for a moment as Murderface shot Skwisgaar a venomous look. "You think you can just punch me in the face and get away with it, you fucking Swedish lunatic?" he shouted without rising out of the water. "Yes," answered Swisgaar. He began hammering out scales and tuned Murderface out. All the while, Toki was grinning like a fool because, although he did not acknowledge Toki directly, he chose to settle in next to him, pressing a leg against his under the water. Toki turned to face him and smiled conspiratorially. In spite of himself, Skwisgaar risked a small grin back. Murderface had already forgotten Skwisgaar and the argument that had been going on since Toki got in the tub resumed. He struggled a little with the English sometimes, especially with the accents of his band mates. He understood Nathan reasonably well, but it was touch and go with Pickles and Murderface. For the first time since he came to Mordhaus, Toki felt comfortable and at home. He could get used to this. He wondered if his life could get any better.

Note: The idea of Skwisgaar calling Toki a bumblebee is something I read in another story, and I thought it was a really cute idea. I don't know who's story it was. I'll be happy to give credit where it is due. Chapter three coming soon.


	3. Happys Birthday, Tokis!

**Chapter Three: Happys Birthday, Tokis!** (The Journey to Mordhaus series)

(Italics indicate Norwegian/Swedish)

"Stop, stop, stop!" came the irritated shout through the talkback mic. Toki jumped at the sound. He glared at Pickles, who had been lording over the guitarists like a tyrant for the past three hours. Skwisgaar heaved a frustrated sigh. "Tokis," he began, "you has to plays it likes this." He demonstrated the same guitar line that Toki had just played. Toki wondered if his band mates were hard of hearing. He popped his neck, cracked his knuckles, shook out his sore fingers and wrists, and began running through the section again, when he heard the simultaneous shout in the mic and from his fellow guitarist. "Toki, you has to play, hows you says, less sloppies," snapped Skwisgaar. Skwisgaar was tired, too, and was taking it out on Toki a little. Pickles was bitching in Toki's ear, something about balance and tempo, when Skwisgaar lifted a hand and said, "Pickle, I wills do it. We can mixes hims out." Toki's head whipped to the side and he glared at Skwigaar, offended to his core. They had been practicing all morning, and after a ridiculously short lunch break, headed into the studio to begin recording samples for the record. He was tired, sore, and unaccustomed to being pushed so hard musically. His guitar playing was a natural gift. He did not have the best work ethic when it came to his guitar, in direct contrast to his gift. Skwisgaar sneered at Toki. The veteran guitarist had studied very hard and practiced constantly, often compulsively, nearly every time his hands were free, to achieve his level of virtuosity. Toki's lazy talent ruffled his feathers. He felt a pang of unreasonable jealousy, which pissed him off. It was time to assert his dominance as the lead guitarist. He sneered at Toki, who was wiping the sweat from his fingers onto the hem of his shirt. "You ams just a lazy crybabys. Enoughs of this. Pickle, just mixes hims out! I will re-record it until this one learns to plays his guitars!" he snapped cruelly. To Skwisgaar's horror, Toki's eyes filled with tears. Toki had been taking the criticism with little complaint up to this point, but he could see that he had pushed the younger man a little too far this time. Toki slid the guitar off his shoulders, dropped it quickly, and dashed out of the studio. "What the fuck, Skwisgaar? If we are going to mix him out, we don't have to rub it his nose in it! We just scraped him off the street a couple days ago, remember? Enough with the Magnus impression, dood!" Skwisgaar stiffened at the comparision. Magnus had been a cruel, unrelenting lead guitarist who demanded control over every move of the entire band. He had taken a lot of abuse from Magnus, a sociopath with a very long memory and an equally long shit list. He was especially cruel to Skwisgaar, tearing him down every chance he got. He had intimidated the blonde man to the point of silence during rehearsals, recording sessions, and meetings until he was finally kicked out. His blue eyes flashed dangerously through the glass at Pickles. "Dood, I'm sorry. That was way outta line. I just meant…" Pickles began. "Shuts up, Pickle. I thinks that's enough recordings for now." "Okay, dood, but we are on a deadline…" Skwisgaar flipped him the bird and left the studio, slamming the door behind him.

Pickles settled back in the chair in front of the mixing board, rubbing his tired eyes with the heels of his hands, resigned to try and create magic with pro tools. He played back what they had just recorded, isolating Toki's part. Much to his surprise, he realized that Toki's playing wasn't as bad as he thought at the time. "Nerves are getting the best of us all," he thought. It was their first album. It had to be perfect. He felt a little guilty about pushing the guitarists so hard, but this was Dethklok, and brutality was the name of the game. This album required brutality and perfection, and you do not achieve either by candy coating everything. This was exhausting. He pulled a bottle of whiskey out from under his chair and began swilling it like water, pulled out his works, cut a few lines, and indulged himself. "Hey, it's energy! It's practically caffeine," Pickles said aloud to himself in an attempt to justify it in his own mind, but the words just bounced off the walls and by the time they got back to his ears, he told himself that the fear he heard in them was solely related to the task ahead of him. He grabbed the bottle, downed another healthy slug, and got back to work.

Skwisgaar was angry at Pickles for comparing him to Magnus, but his mind was a little preoccupied with something else that Pickles had said. "We just scraped him off the street a couple days ago, remember?" A couple days ago. They found Toki three days ago... today was Toki's eighteenth birthday. It was his birthday, and he had spent most of the morning yelling at him, pushing him to practice harder, play better, and throwing criticism at him, all because he let his petty jealousy get the better of him. He wondered what Toki would think if he knew how nervous he was about being usurped after having recently earned his crown. "I am such a jackass," he thought to himself. He walked to his large, mostly white bedroom, sat down on his bed with it's white fur blanket, perched himself at the end of it, set a metronome, and began hammering out scales and arpeggios in perfect time by the time the door closed. This was the only thing that he was able to do perfectly. He felt terrible for hurting Toki's feelings. "I should talk to him, apologize," he thought. He found it difficult to make himself stop playing and stand up to take that long walk down the hall. Instead, he set the metronome to a ridiculous speed, and started over. "You coward," he thought. The image of Toki's tear filled eyes kept running through his head like a reel on an endless loop. He lost his fingering, cursed, and tossed the guitar down on the bed. He had to make this right.

After the studio door slammed behind him, Toki leaned against it for a moment, willing the tears not to fall. They betrayed him and streaked down his cheeks, splashing onto his shirt. "Damn it, what more do they expect of me?" he thought. "I do everything they ask of me without complaint, and nothing is good enough!" He fled to his bedroom and collapsed on the bed. Yesterday, he was kissing his beautiful Swedish guitar god, playing footsies with him in the hot tub, the rest of the band oblivious. He rolled into the fetal position with a pillow clutched tightly against his chest. He was so happy yesterday. He heard Skwisgaar's bedroom door open and shut down the hall and clutched his pillow a little tighter. He wished he didn't feel so alone. Silent tears rolled down his cheeks and plopped onto the pillow. He wondered if he would flood the room with them at this rate. He looked up at the photographs of his mother and father that now hung on the wall over his bed. He grabbed them when he fled on impulse, folding them up and storing them in his beat up, threadbare guitar case. A Klokateer found him a couple of picture frames from the Merch and hung them up for him. That, and the dragon night light were the only decorations he had in the room so far. He was looking forward to hanging up some posters and putting that desk to good use. He always wanted to try building scale models of different vehicles, cars, trains, boats, and planes. Modes of transportation and escape fascinated him, particularly the ones that flew. He wanted posters of the planets and the stars, too. He had been forbidden to study celestial bodies by his strictly religious parents, but spent a great deal of time staring at the night sky when he was chained up in the shed overnight. There were patches missing from the roof, so could always see the sky. He loved the Aurora Borealis, which was one of the few highlights of his life every year. They always brought him hope for some reason. If the grey skies of Norway could burst into beautiful light like that, maybe someday his miserable, grey life could light up with beautiful colors, too. He closed his eyes, bringing the comforting image into his mind, slipping into his own little world until he heard a door slam down the hall, and footsteps heading in the direction of his room. "Oh, please, don't let him come in here…" he thought to himself, dread tightening his chest. He buried his face a little harder into the pillow, trying to make himself smaller, much like he did as a child when he was trying to avoid yet another slap… or worse… He felt his mind retreating, and fear became his only reality.

**Tap tap tap**

Maybe if he didn't acknowledge the sound, he would think he was not in there, and would go away.

**Tap tap tap**

"Tokis, I knows you ams in theres. Will you lets me ins? I needs to talks to you about somethings." Toki stayed exactly as he was, nearly catatonic with nerves. He tried to find his voice, but he could not seem to get words out. Skwisgaar turned the doorknob, opening the door a crack. He saw Toki curled up on his bed, pillow clutched tightly to his chest, tears drying on his cheeks. He felt the twist in his heart that was becoming all too commonplace when Toki was around, cursed himself, and opened the door a little wider.

_S: Toki, I owe you an apology. Will you let me in? Please?_

Toki heard him, but he still could not move. His throat had swollen shut.

_S: Please, Toki. I am sorry for being so hard on you. Please._

Toki wasn't able to move. Skwisgaar became alarmed.

_S: Are you that angry with me? I already said I am sorry. What more would you have me do?_

Toki had not moved a muscle. Recalling the pallor from the first day, he took it upon himself to cross into the room over to Toki's bed. When he got close, he became even more concerned. Toki's face was blank, his eyes unreachable. Skwisgaar was suddenly, irrationally afraid that Toki was dead. He sat on the bed next to Toki, taking in the extreme difference between Toki now and Toki the night before. "I did this to him," Skwisgaar thought, cursing himself for what seemed like the millionth time since they had picked the younger man up off the street. He risked a gentle caress on his cheek and found that Toki's face was wet with new tears. Skwisgaar's heart broke in half. He nuzzled his neck, trying to warm Toki's cold skin. Little by little, he trailed kisses across the younger man's neck, behind his ear, raining them all over his face until the warmth began to come back. Toki tasted like salt and sadness. In that moment, he would have done anything to comfort him, to make him smile again. Toki's temper tantrums were always quite amusing. He stomped his feet, scrunched up his face, and shouted in a high-pitched whine. They were downright adorable. But this was different. Teasing Toki and hurting Toki were two very different things, and he was ashamed of himself for letting it go too far.

Under Skwisgaar's lips, Toki felt his face warm and his tears dry, yet he remained stiff as a board. It was a shock to his system to be touched in a gentle, affectionate manner. He felt starved for it. Skwisgaar lowered himself onto the bed and curled himself up facing Toki, matching his position, knees to knees, forehead to forehead. Toki wanted to release his death grip on the pillow, but he just couldn't.

_S: Little Toki, I am very worried about you. Will you acknowledge me?_

Toki willed himself to move. He cleared his swollen throat, and lifted his face to Skwisgaar's, nose to nose.

_T: I am having a hard day, Skwis._

_S: Skwis, eh? Is that what you are calling me now?_

Toki felt himself grinning a little in spite of himself. Skwisgaar's heart soared.

_T: Yes. If that is alright with you._

_S: Only if you allow me to call you my Bumblebee._

Toki snorted at the memory of the argument the day before, remembering Skwisgaar's enjoyment at his expense.

_T: Only behind closed doors. I would be humiliated to be called such a name in front of the others._

Skwisgaar wrapped his long arms around Toki, not able to get as close as he wanted because of the pillow.

_S: That pillow is too big. Move it._

_T: I do not want to move it. It makes me feel better to hold something._

_S: It would make me feel better to hold you._

A silent question passed between them, and a silent consensus was reached. Skwisgaar snatched away the pillow and pulled Toki into his lap, who wrapped his legs around his waist. Skwisgaar began reaching for the hem of his shirt, trying to yank it over his head. Toki's eyes widened at the thought of him seeing his bare back, and he grabbed Skwisgaar's hands with his own.

_T: No, Skwisgaar. Not my shirt. There are things that I do not want you to see._

_S: What are you talking about?_

Toki struggled to compose himself and decided to just tell him the truth. It would be easier that way. One could use the expression 'like ripping off a band-aid', but it would be lost on Toki, as he was unfamiliar with the use of band-aids.

_T: My back is very hard to look at. Very ugly. Like a monster._

Skwisgaar frowned down at the man between his legs, and he shifted himself over to face him.

_S: There could never be anything ugly about you, Sweet Toki._

_T: I wish that were true, Skwis. You would not see me in the same light again._

_S: I am not afraid. Please. Believe me when I say that there is nothing about you that I could ever find ugly._

They sat up, and Toki allowed him to pull the shirt over his head and drop it on the floor. Skwisgaar ran his hands up Toki's bare chest, noticing that it was more muscular than he imagined in spite of how thin he was. He slid his hands up to to Toki's shoulders and slowly down the top of his back. "In the name of Odin, what he endured?" Skwisgaar thought to himself. He felt him recoil slightly under his touch, and was filled with such rage that he had to close his eyes and compose his face as not to scare Toki. He wanted whoever did this to him dead.

_S: Little Toki, who did this to you?_

_T: My parents. They believed I was an evil child and that I was the death bringer. They chained me in the shed, flogged me and starved me. I was only allowed to wear shorts, no shoes, no shirt, and you understand the winters there. The worst part was when I was forced to spend days, sometimes weeks, underground in the 'punishment hole' for my sins and errors. That is why I escaped._

Skwisgaar's eyes widened. How could anyone think Toki was evil? Toki was the opposite of evil. He was kind, affectionate, honest, funny, and adorable. He realized in that moment that Toki understood brutality on a level that he, nor any of this band mates, ever could. Toki's innocence was miraculous.

_S: That is the craziest thing I have ever heard. You are not evil. You have to understand that._

Toki had begun to weep silently, speaking of this to another person for the very first time. He felt his chest tighten with anxiety.

_T: I do not wish to speak of this anymore._

_S: I will be here to listen when you are ready to talk._

Toki's heart rate began to level. Skwisgaar laid him down on the bed on his side, facing him, and wrapped his arms around him. Toki buried his face into Skwisgaar's chest, clinging to him for dear life.

_S: Little Toki, you are so beautiful. I wish you could see that. Each scar tells a story of survival. That is pretty brutal. Maybe it balances out the baby stuff a little._

Toki made a face at Skwisgaar without lifting his head from the man's broad chest. He was not mad, he had accepted his apology, and when Toki chose to forgive, he forgave whole-heartedly without holding a grudge. His sense of humor was often life saving. He relaxed his death grip and allowed himself to experience being held by Skwisgaar like this, in the way of lovers. Or so he imagined, as he lacked experience. Skwisgaar's hands felt so good on him, so right, as he explored the younger man's body, his surprisingly strong back and shoulders, his arms… He forgot to be self conscious and began to make a humming sound akin to a purr. Skwisgaar felt the blood rush from every other part of his body straight into his loins.

_T: Skwisgaar… please…_

He wasn't sure what he was trying to ask, but he felt a rocket ready to burst. Skwisgaar grinned. This was familiar territory for him. He pushed Toki onto his back, hovered over him, and began to grind against him slowly. The younger man groaned and bucked his hips beneath him. His hands were everywhere they could reach. Skwisgaar rolled off of him and turned to face him. Things were escalating pretty quickly, and for the first time in his life, he decided to show a little restraint, considering the conversation they just had. Toki spit out a frustrated oath in his native language, and turned to face Skwisgaar, who chuckled. He had big plans Toki was unaware of.

_S: I understand your frustration, and I respect it. But we need not rush. Can we just lie together here for a moment?_

_T: Whatever you want._

They lay there, wrapped up in each other, long blond hair mixing with choppy brown hair on the pillow. He could smell Skwisgaar, simple soap, clean sweat, and a little liquor. It was the most intoxicating scent he could imagine.

_S: I really am sorry for hurting you._

_T: I know you are. I accepted your apology._

They stayed that way for a little while, then Skwisgaar unwound himself from Toki and rose from the bed.

_S: I have something I need to do. I will see you later, my little Bumblebee._

As usual, Toki made a face at the pet name. Skwisgaar left the room chuckling.

Toki rose, rushed to the door and listened as his footsteps echoed down the hall in the direction of the studio. He clicked the lock and returned to his bed. He grabbed the abandoned pillow off the floor and clutched it tightly, as he had Skwisgaar moments before. While he was in there with him, he was able to keep his fears at bay. But now someone else knew about the scars and how he ended up with them. It was a lot to process. He decided that he wanted no other company save Skwisgaar's for the remainder of the day.

After a while, Toki heard knocking at the door, and when he heard a voice that was not Skwisgaar's, he tuned it out and continued to lay as he was, clutching his pillow, lost in the world that he created in his mind when reality became too much to bear.

Skwisgaar stormed back into the studio to find Pickles half asleep on the mixing board. "Pickle! Wakes up! I needs you to gives to me a rides." " Wha, what? No!" whined Pickles, swatting Skwisgaar away with his hand. Pickles wondered who puked on his shirt and pissed his pants. His brain was foggy from the crash. "PICKLE! WAKES UP!" Skwisgaar shouted, grabbed the other man by his arms and jerked him to a semi-standing position. "DOOD! WHAT THE FUCK?" Skwisgaar eyed Pickles without sympathy. "Today ams Toki's birthdays. I needs you to gives to me a rides to, ah, the stores or something. He needs a birthdays present." Pickles looked at Skwisgaar as though he had suddenly sprouted wings and taken flight. "Birthday? Since when do you care about someone else's birthday?" He shook his head in an attempt to clear it. "Dood. You got a crush on him or something?" Pickles was genuinely surprised. Skwisgaar cared for no one but himself. The surprise, coupled with the buzzing in his head, had him off his guard, and he did not see Skwisgaar's left hook coming. "Shuts UP Pickle and gives to me a rides! NOW!" Pickles took a step back from the force of the blow. "Dood! You just punched me!" "Yes, and I'm goings to do it agains if you don't gives to me a ride!" The men stared at each other, one in shock and the other in concentrated rage. "You owe me for this, you know?" said Pickles. "And you've gotta stop punching people! It's not the best way to solve your problems, dood." Skwisgaar's lips turned up in victory, but he did not lose eye contact with the older man. "Sorrys. Thanks you, Pickle. You can punchings me backs now if you wants." Pickles simply shook his head, ducked into his room to change his shirt, and followed Skwisgaar to the Murdercylce. He was not even mad about the punch. He knew he had it coming after the Mangus comment. His chin stung a bit, but it could have been much worse. He cranked the vehicle and took Skwisgaar on his unusual errand.

By the time they arrived back at Mordhaus, it was about eight pm. Skwisgaar decided Toki needed a pizza party, so they brought home way too many pizzas. Pickles had gotten into the spirit of things, insisting on getting a small cake and some chocolate, vanilla, and strawberry ice cream. They had clutches of black and red balloons and several gifts. Pickles called Charles and let him know what was going on, so Charles had dispatched a few Klokateers to dig up some decorations. "This is all so unlike Skwisgaar," he thought. He had a notion as to what was going on, but he kept it to himself. "Not my business," he thought. Charles had a gift for Toki as well, one he looked forward to giving, though Toki was ignoring him at the moment. He motioned for Klokateers to take the food and the gifts from the boys and called them over without saying a word. "So, ah, we have the boardroom set up. All we have to do is get Toki in there. I have not been successful in my attempts to, ah, coax him out of his room." Toki had been ignoring Charles quite deliberately, and he knew it. "Skwisgaar, go get him out of his room! Just try not to punch him, alright?" Skwisgaar glared at Pickles, turned on his heels and headed to Toki's room. Charles and Pickles turned to one another and a knowing look passed between them. Pickles grinned devilishly at Charles and started to walk his fingers up the front of his suit. Charles grabbed his wrists, hard, looked at him sternly, and said, "Not now, impatient one. Business first." Pickles rolled his eyes, snatched his hands away, and glared at him. "Whatever you say, dood!" Charles smiled at Pickles. He would just have to wait. Especially now that Nathan and Murderface had crashed into the room. "WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON IN HERE?" asked Nathan in his most reasonable tone. "Yeah, there's balloons and shit! Oh, is that pizza? And cake? And… ice cream?" said Murderface hopefully. "Yep, it's Toki's birthday today," explained Pickles. "And Skwisgaar wanted him to have a pizza party." "WAIT, WHAT? SKWISGAAR?" asked Nathan, snapping his head around at Pickles. He, like Murderface, had descended upon the pizza. "Yeah, we were pretty hard on him today in the studio. Messed him up a little bit. But whatever. Besides, do you really need an excuse for pizza and ice cream? Because, personally, I do not!" proclaimed Pickles. Nathan grunted in his general direction. He already had two pieces of pizza stuffed into his mouth. "PIZZA SANWICH," he explained with his mouth full, sending bits of chewed food in Murderface's direction, who was too busy shoveling food into his own mouth to notice. "Save some for Toki, alright?" said Pickles. He got dual grunts in response. He shrugged at Charles. "Well, I tried!"

After Skwisgaar left the room, he headed straight for Toki.

**Tap tap tap**

"Who ams there?" asked Toki.

_S: My Bumblebee, will you please let me in?_

**Click**

Toki unlocked the door and let Skwisgaar in.

_T: Charles will not leave me alone. He keeps knocking on my door, talking about a meeting. I do not want to go to a meeting right now. Why won't he leave me alone?_

_S: It is a very important meeting, Little Toki. I will take you to it._

_T: Not you, too! I just want to stay in my room for the day! Is that such a crime?_

Skwisgaar grinned wickedly.

_S: Unfortunately for you, today it is._

Skwisgaar plucked Toki off his bed and threw him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Toki began kicking and slapping at his kidnapper, trying to escape his grip, but to his immense frustration, he was not able to. He sighed gustily and resigned himself to being carried by force to a meeting. He propped his chin on his hand and his elbow against Skwisgaar's back. Skwisgaar chuckled the whole way to the boardroom. He was having a fine time carrying Toki around. "Maybe I should do this more often, just pluck him up and carry him around with me," he thought. He decided not to overthink the notion, as thinking still was not among his strong suits.

Thoughtfulness and generosity were not often among Skwisgaar's defining traits, but somehow, they were today. "Wowee," Toki whispered. There were red and black balloons everywhere, and the board table was covered with pizzas and presents. There was even cake and ice cream. Toki's birthday had never been celebrated before. No one had ever even wished him a happy birthday. Skwisgaar dumped Toki in the chair at the head of the table, right in front of the cake. It was an impulse buy on his and Pickles' part. A supermarket cake with white frosting and rainbow sprinkles. There were a few strange looking clown heads poked into the white frosting. Toki's eyes lit up. He looked up at Skwisgaar. "Happys Birthday, Tokis!" he said, grinning down at him. A chorus of happy birthdays from the other band mates followed, but Toki could not really hear them through the buzzing in his ears. Skwisgaar continued to look down at him, grinning like a fool. Charles brought out a knife to cut the cake and handed it to Toki, who simply continued to stare at Skwisgaar in touched gratitude. Charles made no comment, simply turned and left them there to go get a spoon for the ice cream.

_S: Little Toki, are you alright?_

Toki stared at him another moment.

_S: Seriously though, Toki, this is getting a little creepy. Say something._

Toki cleared his throat.

_T: No one has ever done anything like this for me. I do not know how to begin to thank you._

Skwisgaar chuckled.

_S: I can think of a way or two, perhaps._

Skwisgaar grinned like a scoundrel. Toki's face now matched the hue of the balloons. Just then, the rest of the band descended upon them with gifts and a plate heaped with pizza slices. Toki grabbed a slice and inhaled it. "WELL, AREN'T YOU GOING TO OPEN THESE PRESENTS?" asked Nathan. "Yeah, asshole! All this shit for your stupid birthday! Juh-heeeez!" The rest of the room collectively rolled their eyes. Toki began unwrapping gifts with reckless abandon. He stopped when he unwrapped a brown teddy bear with a devil's tail. He stared down at it. It was love at first sight. "Oh, wowee! I loves this!" He hugged it tightly. His band mates laughed at his childish reaction to the bear. "What the fuck is that?" asked Murderface. Skwisgaar flushed a little bit. "How old are you, Toki? Five?" "Fucks you, Murderface!" said Toki, holding the bear out to examine it. Pickles glanced over at Skwisgaar, observing the flush, and they locked eyes, knowing green eyes and guilty sapphire ones. "He's got it bad for the kid, " he thought. He smiled at Skwisgaar, gave him a thumbs up. Skwisgaar blushed a little harder and flipped Pickles the bird for the second time that day. Pickles remembered Skwisgaar picking the bear up, an out of season Halloween toy, and smiling down at it. "Hey, looks, Pickle," he said, "Tokis is kinds of a crysbabys, I should gets him this babytimes toy. Yous knows, as the jokes!" Pickles was no fool. Skwisgaar's eyes conveyed the truth that his mouth refused to. "Yeah, sure thing, dood. That would be pretty funny!" Seeing Toki's reaction to the simple stuffed bear had touched him, too. Noticing the pause in conversation, Charles decided that it was time for him to make his announcement. He walked over to Toki and Skwisgaar. "Toki, I have a gift for you, too." He reached into the large inner pocket in his suit, pulled out an envelope and handed it to Toki, who peered at it, confused. He could not read English at all. He could hardly speak it. "Those are your papers, Toki. You are officially a citizen of the United States. It's all been taken care of. You have dual citizenship, in fact." Toki lept from his chair, dropping the papers on the floor, and threw his arms around Charles in a tight, desperate embrace. "Thanks you, Charles! I can hardly believes this!" He grinned at his bandmates. "Now yous never get rids of me." Pickles and Skwisgaar grinned, Nathan glared, Charles glanced, and Murderface rolled his eyes, at Toki. "Guys, this calls for a toast," declared Pickles, as though he needed an excuse. He summoned for several liquor bottles, and everyone, including Toki, partook. They ended up getting Toki shit faced, cannot walk straight without knocking into walls drunk. Toki was not the only one, of course. Even Charles had a few drinks. By the end of the night, there was vomit on the mahogany board table. They would have to get that replaced, Charles told himself. Immediately. He summoned a Klokateer and ordered him to have it taken care of by the next morning. Nathan was passed out face down on the couch in the common room, Murderface had stumbled down the hall to his bedroom and passed out in the doorway, and Toki and Skwisgaar were sitting on the rug in front of the fireplace passing a joint back and forth in an attempt to help calm Toki's vomiting. Pickles swayed back and forth, leaning against the doorway. Charles approached him and said, "my office. Now." He led Pickles into his darkened office, shut the blinds, and locked the door. Pickles grinned in the dark as Charles pushed a clump of orange dreads off his shoulder and bit down on his exposed neck.

Skwisgaar and Toki were both faintly aware of Nathan's obnoxiously loud snoring, but they tuned it out for the most part. They were lost together in a world of their own creation. They sat facing one another, legs crossed, knees touching, smoking and speaking softly in their Norwegian/Swedish mixture, depending on the speaker.

_T: I cannot believe I got so sick so quickly, Skwis!_

_S: It was your first time, idiot! What did you expect?_

Toki rolled his eyes, his nausea abated and his inhibitions lowered. He looked down at the toy in his lap, the deady bear, and back up at Skwisgaar.

_T: Skwis, why did you do this for me?_

_S: Maybe I felt like it was high time your birthday was celebrated._

_T: I am so surprised that you care about me that much._

_S: I care about you more than you could imagine. More than anyone I have ever known._

Toki was not the only one who's inhibitions had been lowered.

_T: Wowee, Skwis, do you mean that?_

He clutched deady bear and looked into Skwisgaar's eyes hopefully.

_S: Of course I do. Why would I say it if I did not mean it?_

They grinned at each other. Toki looked around the room, noticed that everyone had left the room other than Nathan, still passed out on the couch, snoring so loudly it was a wonder the walls didn't shake.

_T: Let's go, Skwis. Let's go somewhere._

_S: What do you mean? I am too drunk to drive, and I have no license._

_T: No, stupid! To my room! Or your room! Somewhere alone! I feel like I am going to burst if I do not get you to myself for a moment!_

Skwisgaar's eyes sharpened and he looked into the younger man's face, searching it.

_S: Are you sure about this?_

T_: Do you always ask so many questions?_

Skwisgaar responded by scooping Toki up and throwing him over his shoulder, much like he had earlier in the evening. He had no idea what time it was. All he knew was what he saw in Toki's eyes. He carried him down the hall, and debated for a moment which room to go to. He decided on Toki's room. He opened the door, kicked it shut behind him and locked it, all with a squirming Toki tossed over one shoulder.

_T: Put me DOWN, Skwisgaar! Stop carrying me around!_

He began kicking Skwisgaar in the stomach and pounding his fists on his back in his protest. He still clutched deady bear in one hand, and began swatting it at the blonde's head. Skwisgaar simply dropped Toki onto the bed and stared down at him. Toki's face was flushed with drink, indignation, and desire. His hair was mussed and his eyes flashed like pale blue lightening bolts when they locked with those of the older man, who simply continued to study him

_T: Are you going to stand there and stare at me all night?_

_S: You are so unbelievably beautiful, Little Toki. I enjoy looking at beautiful things._

Toki flushed a little harder, which made Skwisgaar smile. He plopped down on the bed next to Toki, causing him to bounce up. Toki let out a delighted squeal at the sensation of the rebound. As soon as he landed back on the mattress, Skwisgaar hovered over him, propping himself up with one hand and captured the nape of Toki's neck with the other, pulling him close for a long, deep kiss. Toki let out a moan into the older man's mouth without pulling away, reveling in the velvety warmth. The kiss deepened, Skwisgaar's experienced lips guiding Toki's innocent ones. Toki ran his hands up the back of the blonde man's shirt and dug his fingernails hard into his shoulders, ripping them down his back, hard, nearly drawing blood. It was Skwisgaar's turn to groan into Toki's mouth. He pulled back from the kiss to fumble with the button of Toki's jeans. He yanked them off him hips with a quick jerk and tossed them across the room. They heard something crash, but did not care what it was. Skwisgaar pressed his hand against the bulge between Toki's legs, who began trying to remove the other man's jeans. He moved his hand up and down his member, causing Toki's eyes to roll back in his head with pleasure. No one had ever touched him this way before. He wanted to make Skwis feel as good as he felt in that moment. He could hardly believe what was happening. "Maybe I'm dreaming," he thought. His mind was still hazy from the earlier indulgences, and he felt as though he were floating. Skwisgaar's hands, oh, his hands, were doing unbelievable things to him. He thought he would burst at any moment. The older man pulled the younger man's shirt off and then removed his own. Toki barely had time to register the fact that he and his guitar god were naked together in his bed, so he forgot to be self conscious as Skwisgaar rained kisses all over him, his face, his neck, his chest, lower and lower… Toki sat up straight as Skwisgaar's mouth closed around him.

_T: Oh, oh Skwis...!_

Skwisgaar continued what he started, his expert mouth working on Toki until, with a little gasp, he came into his mouth. It was over in less than a minute. Skwisgaar began kissing him all the way back up to his mouth, and captured it with his own.

_T: Oh... Skwis. Please let me… I want to… you have to let me…_

Skwisgaar buried his hands in Toki's hair as the younger man's hand wrapped around him and began moving in an awkward, inexperienced way that for some strange reason drove him crazy. He had never been so desperate for someone in his entire life.

_S: Little Toki, oh, my sweet little Toki…_

The words slipped out on a sigh. Toki looked into Skwisgaar's eyes, a question in them. He did not know how to ask him what he needed to do to make him feel as good as he had made him feel.

_T: Please guide me. This is all new to me._

Skwisgaar bit his swollen bottom lip, studying the man who had not stopped moving his hands.

_S: How far are you willing to go?_

_T: As far as you want me to._

The trust and longing in his eyes was intoxicating. Toki lowered his head and closed his mouth around him. Skwisgaar grabbed him by the back of his hair and guided his mouth back and forth, giving soft directions. As he guided him, Toki began letting out involuntary purring sounds around him, causing Skwisgaar to spill himself into his mouth, groaning and holding onto the back of Toki's head until it was over. Toki rose, and dropped onto the bed, pulling the other man down on top of him, wrapping his strong, skinny arms around his neck. Skwisgaar just groaned laid on top of him, not concerned about crushing Toki under his weight in the moment. His brain was as empty as his loins. He never experienced emotional intimacy during a sexual act on any level, and he was not sure how to feel about it.

_T: You are going to crush me, Skwis._

_S: No I'm not. You are stronger than you act._

Toki proved him right by rolling the older man onto his back, straddling him, and kissing him breathless. He rolled off of him and onto his side, facing Skwisgaar.

_S: Seriously, though, Happys Birthday, Tokis, huh?_

Toki giggled uncontrollably. Skwisgaar wrapped his arms around him, pulling him chest to chest. He felt an unfamiliar warmth spread through him and that ever present twist in his heart when Toki nuzzled his neck and breathed his name. He played with the ends of the younger man's hair and ran his hands softly up and down his scarred back, reminded that the man in his arms had been completely innocent and unaccustomed to a gentle touch. He looked down at Toki, feeling his breath become slow and even with sleep. He smiled a little. He decided not to spend the night alone in his room.

_S: Toki, wake up for a minute._

Toki blinked, his eyes half open, and stared at a blurry image of Skwisgaar through his bloodshot visage.

_T: What is it, Skwis?_

_S: Do you want me to leave so you can go to sleep?_

_T: You can leave if you want, but I would like it if you would stay. You do not have to stay, of course. But I want you to._

_S: Good. I was not planning on leaving, anyway._

He settled back in, lying on his back, pulling Toki into the circle of his arms. He knew with the current practice schedule, he was running a serious risk of getting caught in Toki's room. He decided that he no longer cared. He was more concerned with the man who had fallen asleep again quickly with his face pressed into the side of his neck. He closed his eyes and felt his own breath even. He was going to wake with Toki in his arms, and the image made him almost look forward to the daylight. He generally avoided it if possible. Toki was bringing light into his life, literally and figuratively.

As he drifted off to sleep, his last thought was of Toki's smile when he unwrapped deady bear, who was still perched on the end of the bed, somehow managing not to get knocked off during the tryst.

Chapter Four coming soon


	4. Fucking Pickles

The Journey to Mordhaus

**Chapter Four- Fucking Pickles**

Italics indicated Norwegian/Swedish

The cold wind whipped in frozen ribbons across the bare skin of Toki's face, blew through his choppy, disheveled hair, freezing him to the bone. It was December, and it was below freezing outside, factoring in the wind chill. His feet were numb from trekking barefoot through the snow since just before sunrise. There was nothing he could have done to stop the violent shaking that had overtaken him. It was his body's final line of defense against the climate. "Demon bli borte!"(1) screamed his father, Reverend Aslaug Wartooth, as he cracked the back of his hand across the bridge of Toki's nose. Blood began pouring down his face. It tasted like copper. His mother, Anja, stood off to the side, throwing freezing fistfuls of holy water in his face as his father brutalized him. Eventually, Toki wound up curled up in the fetal position in the freezing earth, guarding against kicks to the stomach and chest. His shirt was wet from being ground into the snow and clung to him like a second skin, not doing much to guard him from the elements. He could do nothing but shake and dodge the blows. He felt the blood that continued to pour from his nose, and he wondered if it had been broken this time. His skin was sliced up from the rocks, and the snow was dotted with his blood. But he couldn't feel anything anymore. Then the blackness swallowed him down, and there was nothing left to feel…

"Tokis! Tokis! Wakes up Tokis!" Skwisgaar hissed. Moments before, Toki had been wrapped in his arms, sleeping peacefully, but then he sat straight up, easily knocking Skwisgaar off of him and began screaming bloody murder. He shook Toki a little too hard, terrified. He was screaming, but he looked pale as death, his eyes unreachable chasms. "Tokis! You ams havings the nightmares! Wakes up!" He shook him again and held him at arms length. Toki had stopped screaming, but he was still pale, cold, and his eyes were still empty. He didn't know what course of action he should take. He had never been in this situation before.

_S: Toki! Come back to me! Please, Toki! Look at me! Look into my eyes!_

Toki heard the pleading in Skwisgaar's tone, and he locked eyes with the older man, echoes of the nightmare still playing through his mind, the phantom physical pain, the very real terror of being swallowed into the darkness… "It felt like death. I almost died that time," Toki thought as he struggled to pull his mind out of the past and into the present. He finally locked eyes with Skwisgaar, and the fear in those sapphire eyes brought him back to the present in a painful blast of humiliation and sorrow. Tears began to surface and slide down his cheeks with reckless abandon. He was beyond letting tears embarrass him. He had lost himself in a flashback from his nightmare, and it was cripplingly difficult to fight his way back to reality. When Skwisgaar saw Toki's eyes come back to life, his heartbeat leveled substantially. He saw the recognition, and the almost immediate disgrace, in Toki's eyes when he realized what had happened and before whom it occurred. He released his death grip on the younger man and gathered him close as one might a small child, murmuring placations. Helpless, Toki collapsed against him, trying not to let embarrassment crush him. Skwisgaar held him that way for a moment. Toki started to duck his head in shame, but Skwisgaar caught his chin in his slim thumb and forefinger and lifted it back up to face him.

_S: You gave me one hell of a scare! And before you start…_

He said, blue eyes flaming, effectively causing Toki to swallow his words…

_S: You have nothing to apologize for, or to be ashamed of. You had a nightmare, a very bad one. But you are safe now. Do you understand?_

Toki nodded. Skwisgaar's face was his anchor, keeping the past at bay.

_T: I was dreaming of Norway._

_S: I assumed as much. Your eyes died._

Skwisgaar's use of the word 'died' made Toki flinch. That's exactly how it felt in the dream, like he died. Skwisgaar noticed this and pulled Toki back down onto the bed with him. The clock read 6:09 AM. It was way too early to be awake. They fell asleep only hours before. Toki's empty stomach twitched with nausea, and he fought against it, leaning against Skwisgaar, drawing strength from his proximity, as usual. He always felt better when Skwisgaar was around. "Well, almost," he thought, wincing a little at the memory of the brutal recording session the day before. Toki lost his train of thought when Skwisgaar sat up suddenly, reached across him to the end of the bed, and settled back down beside him, holding his deady bear. He tucked the bear under Toki's arm, and lay back down on the bed beside him.

_S: This is better, huh?_

_T: I do not know whether or not you are insulting me._

Skwisgaar blinked innocently, feigning shocked disappointment.

_S: Accusing me of sarcasm? How could you?_

Toki swatted at him with the bear, then curled back up with it in the crook of his arm. Skwisgaar threw his long arm around Toki's waist and pulled him close. Within minutes, they were snoring.

Several hours later, Skwisgaar unwound himself from Toki and climbed out of the bed. Toki groaned in protest, but was fast asleep again in seconds. Skwisgaar indulged himself and pressed his lips to his forehead. Toki smiled softly in his sleep. Skwisgaar found himself tempted to climb back into the bed, but he needed coffee more than oxygen at the moment, so he pulled his clothes from the night before back on and made his way into the kitchen. There was already a pot of black coffee steaming, and Skwisgaar made his way toward it gratefully. He grabbed a mug and filled it to the top, choking it down. "Whoa there, dood. Don't hurt yourself," commented a very, very hungover Pickles, who was sitting at the table, chugging his own half black coffee, half whiskey blend. Skwisgaar leaned against the counter and examined his friend. His orange dread comb over was pitifully out of place, falling over one of his eyes, the rest of his hair twisted around his head like Medusa's snakes. His chin sported a wicked bruise, courtesy of Skwisgaar's fist the day before. The blonde grinned at the orange haired man. As if Pickles had read his mind, he lifted a palm to his chin and glared at him. "Thanks be to Odin that looks cannot truly kill," the handsome Swede thought as he strolled over the kitchen table and dropped into the chair across from Pickles. "So... I know we agreed not to talk about personal stuff… but I can't help but notice how close you and Toki are becoming." Skwisgaar shot him a look equally lethal to the one he had received moments before. "Dood, I'm not here to judge you…" "Fucks you, Pickle," interrupted Skwisgaar. "You reads too much into sometinks." "Alright then, good. You wouldn't mind if I made a pass at him then. He's legal now," said Pickles. Skwisgaar bristled with rage and nearly reached an arm across the table to choke the life out him. "Dood, what's wrong? I thought you said I was overthinking something. Is there something I should know?" he inquired, somehow managing to arrange his devilish features into a nearly innocent expression. His crooked grin betrayed him. If Nathan hadn't stomped into the room, Skwisgaar may have gone through with his previously considered plan to choke him out. "GOOD. COFFEE," he said, and skulked over toward the coffeepot. "WHO MADE THIS?" he inquired. Skwisgaar looked at Pickles. "I did," Pickles said. "GOOD. IT WILL BE BLACKER THAN THE BLACKEST BLACK, BECAUSE YOU ALWAYS BURN IT," he said caustically, poured a mugful, and settled in the chair next to Pickles. He noticed the looks on his band mates faces, one furious, the other amused. He rolled his piercing green eyes at the ceiling. "UUUUUUUUUUUUUGH," he groaned in annoyance. Nathan was not interested in investing his time in the emotional situations of others, even if they pertained to him. Emotions were weakness, and he didn't want them dripping feelings from their dumb, gay hearts all over him. It was fucking gross. Pickles grinned into Skwisgaar's furious visage, a plot of revenge forming in his brain. He chuckled under his breath as he left the kitchen. Skwisgaar poured himself another mug and sat down, hauled a guitar seemingly out of thin air, and joined Nathan at the table. "It ams okays, Natans," Skwisgaar said, as Nathan glared at him. He grunted at him and they began talking shop. Skwisgaar showed Nathan a few of the arrangement changes he had made in a couple of the songs they had been working on. Nathan could hear how the guitar parts would come together in his mind, the way they would glide underneath his rough, brutal vocals as he delivered lyrics of darkness and the futility of living. "I DON'T KNOW WHAT'S GOING ON, BUT YOUR ARRANGEMENTS ARE GETTING BETTER," Nathan said, offering a rare compliment. "Ams you sayings that my arrangements was nots the best before?" Skwisgaar shot, a little embarrassed at the compliment. "SHUT UP. THESE GUITAR LINES ARE BRUTAL. DO YOU THINK THAT THE KID WILL BE ABLE TO KEEP UP?" he asked. "Yes. I wrotes these with Tokis in minds. He ams capable of keepings ups with me," he said without a thought, recalling Toki holding his own at his audition. He got lost in the memory for a bit before realizing that Nathan was staring at him, perplexed. "I means, he ams going to has to practice. A lot. We has lots of works to do," he said, trying to shrug it off. His words, "I wrotes these with Tokis in minds", echoed in his brain. He realized he had never written anything with anyone else in mind before, it had always, always been all about what he wanted. "WHATEVER. WE NEED TO HEAD TO THE STUDIO LATER. WE HAVE CATCHING UP TO DO," he stated, face void of expression, but with guarded curiosity in his tone. "Yes, that ams a good ideas. Sees yous laters," Skwisgaar said, and headed out of the room. He had some things he wanted to write down before they recorded. Music rang in his head, jagged melismas, retrograde and inverted scales, melodies, countermelodies, throbbing bass lines. He rushed into the office off the side of the recording studio, switched guitars out, and began playing and writing before the floodgate switched off.

Nathan pulled out his pocket recorder, hit the button and said, "IDEA FOR SONG. NORSE GOD BRINGS DOOM AND DESTRUCTION TO THE EARTH. AND, UHHHHH, BLOOD AND GUTS. AND RAIN. BLOOD RAIN. VIKING BLOOD RAIN. AND SWORD FIGHTS. VIKINGS…THAT ARE LOST…IN THE BLOOD RAIN...UNGH." Click, recorder off.

Toki's body, mind, and soul fought waking with a vengeance. He was just so tired, and so comfortable… He snuggled down with deady bear, tucking it under his chin. Then he sat straight up in the bed. The party. The 'after'party. The night terrors. The flashbacks. He squeezed his eyes shut and held the stuffed bear close, trying (again) not to let humiliation crush him. "Humiliation is a wasted emotion," he though. He learned that at an early age due to his callous upbringing. He rose from the bed, making it neatly as he had been taught, (whether or not he was allowed to sleep in it was a different matter), automatically propping deady bear between the pillows. He stood back to admire his handiwork. Cleanliness is next to Godliness, (what the fuck does Godliness even mean…), and so he retained many of the habits of his youth. He was hoping that someone could take him into town so he could buy some clothes and maybe some cool stuff for his room. He had been given some of his share of the advance on the album, not to mention money in lieu of gifts from two certain, ill informed band mates. Not that he minded. They had celebrated his birthday, and wowee, what a night it had been. As he gathered his things to get dressed, he began humming a tune under his breath, one that had begun playing in his mind recently. It sounded the way he felt. He continued to hum as he showered, dressed, and examined himself in the mirror. He stopped humming and frowned at his reflection. He had been provided with various toiletries, most of which he had no idea how to use. What is the difference between hand soap and body soap anyway? He brushed his wet brown hair and scowled at the choppiness of the ends. He dug through the drawers full of sundries he couldn't name and found a pair of scissors. He trimmed the ends carefully, then towel dried his hair. It resulted in a haircut that just brushed the top of his shoulders. The choppiness had been transformed into clean, straight lines, placed by neat, careful snips. His father would often hack his air off with a knife when it got too long for his his liking, so Toki became adept at keeping it a reasonable length, trying to keep it just long enough to shield his neck and face from the cold at least a little bit. Now that he was free, he was planning to grown his hair out very long, maybe even longer than Skwisgaar's. Satisfied with the results, he headed out to the common area to see what the others were up to that day. Maybe he could sweet talk someone into giving him a ride.

After the kitchen incident, Pickles skulked off to the common area and turned on the TV. He was not ashamed of his bisexuality or even their short lived affair. Skwisgaar was the one who insisted that no one else in the band know about it. Charles knew, of course. Then again, Charles knew everything. It chafed a bit, made him feel rejected, and Pickles did not like feeling rejected. Nothing he had ever done, from the time he was a kid, was ever good enough for his domineering parents. They were the kind of parents who did not try to hide the fact that they had a favored child. In fact, they flaunted it. Pickles scowled at the thought of his slimy older brother, Seth, a convict who was in and out of jail with depressing consistency. As a child, he would watch his father freeze out his own mother, cheat on her, and slap her around. Pickles watched as she doused her pain with a little cooking sherry here and there, at first. Her drinking progressed to the point where she would black out on an almost daily basis. On the rare occasions his father was home, he sat silently in the recliner, eyes locked on the TV screen, ignoring his loveless marriage, his wife's rapidly accelerating drinking problem, and his two young sons who were practically screaming out for the love and attention of their parents. Seth burned down the garage of the family home when Pickles was about six years old and blamed it on him, and their parents were all too eager to pass the buck to the freckle faced kid, declaring him a lost cause at a critically tender age. Eventually, he began sneaking drinks whenever he could. He learned to hide it well, just like his mother. He discovered music at a young age, and after his father kicked him out, he got involved with a few different bands but nothing stuck. He spent a lot of time sleeping in alleys and occasionally on couches, doing whatever he could to make it through the day, somehow always managing to keep a drink in hand. His talent shone through in spite of his circumstances, and he eventually became the lead man for the glam rock band Snakes 'N Barrels. The drinking and drug use of himself and his band mates got so out of control that they fell apart almost overnight in spite of their success. That was when he met Charles Offdensen, a manager with vision and incredible talent, who pulled the members of Dethklok together, and got them signed to Crystal Mountain Records. Pickles often wondered where he would be if it weren't for Charles' intervention. Though Charles made his distaste for Pickles' drinking and drug habits clear, he did not interfere with them. He and Charles had a very unusual relationship, but it worked for both of them. Most of the time. Again, Pickles bristled at the idea of being involved so covertly with someone, but he made up for it by collecting groupies like daisies. "Skanky gold diggers and sluts never reject you," Pickles thought to himself absently. His mind returned instantly to the present when Toki walked into the room. "Hey, dood! You doin' okay? You were puking like a champ last night!" he said. Toki blushed. "Yes. I ams doings fine, thanks yous." He took a seat on the opposite end of the couch, kicked off his shoes, and tucked his feet under him, turning his attention to the massive TV hanging from the ceiling with hooks and chains. He smiled when he realized it was a cartoon show. Those were his favorites. It didn't matter what cartoon it was, what they were saying or doing, or even if he understood them. He loved the colors and the voices and the vibrant animation. Colors had always fascinated him. He enjoyed coloring books and crayons, the idea of bringing color to the stark black and white pages. Colors in the sky had always brought him hope, so he loved bringing blank pages to life with color, even if he didn't always stay inside the lines.

Pickles was just about to change the channel just before Toki walked in, but he was fascinated watching him watch cartoons. He looked ridiculously content, a feeling that Pickles could not remember ever experiencing in his life, and he envied him that. Toki was so immersed in watching the colors dance across the TV screen that he hardly registered that Pickles was not only staring at him, but had scooted closer to him on the couch. Pickles pulled out a tightly wrapped joint from the baggie in his pocket, fished out a lighter, and lit it, breathing it in, and coughing profusely. It was the click of the lighter that snapped Toki out of his reverie. He whipped his head around at Pickles' proximity. "Hit this, dood?" Pickles offered casually. Toki hesitated. "I don'ts thinks it ams a goods ideas…" "That's cool. Just being polite, ya know?" Toki felt relieved that he wouldn't be pressured. His stomach was still feeling the side effects of the night before. "Dood, did you cut your hair?" Pickles asked, tugging at the ends of the light brown strands that had fallen across his face. "Yes. But I ams growings it out," he said, almost defensively. He pushed the hair out of his eyes and stiffened his shoulders. Pickles was making him a little nervous at the moment. Sensing that, Pickles scooted back on the couch, back to the opposite arm, short legs stretched out. Toki exhaled audibly, much to his embarrassment and Pickles' amusement. "He lights up when you get close to him," Pickles thought. "No wonder Skwisgaar couldn't stay away. I wish I knew how to speak that language so I could understand them." He decided that he was going to try his hand at learning some Norwegian phrases. He took another drag, exhaled, eyes on the TV. This was certainly not his kind of show, but the smoking helped. After a few companionable moments watching cartoons, Toki worked up the courage and said, "Pickle, will you gives to mes a rides? I wants to go shoppings, gets some clothes, but I don'ts know wheres to go." "What is it with these Scandinavians and not having their driver's licenses," he thought, rolling his eyes. But the only alternative plans he had for the day were to go back into the studio, and he still felt a little guilty for making the kid cry the day before. "All right, dood. Let's go," he said. Toki's face lit up. "Thanks you, Pickle!" he exclaimed, jumping up from the couch, toeing into his ragged boots. "Yeah, I would say it's about time that you replaced those shoes. We can't have ya in publicity shots looking like a hobo, right?" Toki just shook his head and smiled. He was ready to go.

"WHERE THE HELL ARE PICKLES AND TOKI?" demanded Nathan. "They left in the Murdercycle several hours ago, my Lord," answered a Klokateer. "Are you shitting me? We have a recording session, you assholes force me to come here, and those pricks didn't even show up? This is BULLSHIT!" shouted Murderface, who was very inconvenienced at the moment. This work was interrupting the whole lot of nothing that he was planning to do that day. "Wheres dids they go?" asked Skwisgaar. "We don't know, sire," stated another Klokateer. "Worthless!" Skwisgaar shouted. "Every ones of you, worthless! Pickle and Tokis leaves and no ones even knows wheres they ams? What do we pays you for, anyways, huh?" he shouted. One of the Klokateers said, "We are sorry, my lord We are doing everything possible to locate them." "Yes, keeps on doings thats," Skwisgaar said venomously. Where in the HELL were they? Where had Pickles taken him? Toki was unfamiliar with the schedule, but Pickles was not. They needed Pickles to run the boards in addition to playing the drums. Nathan possessed a minimal proficiency, but Pickles was the expert of the group by far. They counted on Pickles' skills because they did NOT want a producer coming in and corrupting the purity of their work. Their music belonged to them. "Well, to me, Nathan and Pickles," Skwisgaar thought. He always wrote Murderface's bass lines, though he could not, and did not want to, take credit for Murderface's idea to play with his dick. He shuddered a little at the thought. He quickly ran through a few harmonic minor scales to clear his mind of the thought. "My lords, they have returned," announced a Klokateer. The three men abandoned the studio to descend upon them, demanding answers. "We wents shoppings," announced Toki innocently, stuffing the remainder of a strawberry ice cream cone into his mouth. How it survived the trip on the Murdercycle, or how they could have possibly hauled this much stuff back, was a mystery to the others. "PICKLES, WHAT THE FUCK? YOU KNEW WE HAD A RECORDING SESSION!" demanded Nathan. "Oh, calm down, wouldya?" Pickles responded. "The kid asked me for a ride, and I gave him one." Skwisgaar's eyes frosted over, turning them a cold, sub-glacial blue. After their back and forth earlier, he did not like the idea of Pickles being alone with his Toki. "MY Toki?" he thought to himself, horrified. What the fuck was going on with him? His heart twisted yet again when his eyes rested on Toki. He was too angry with Pickles to take a good look at him sooner. He looked nervous and a little chastened at the moment. "Odin, why does my heart seize up at the sight of him?" he thought to himself, staring at the beautiful young man. His hair was a little shorter, the cut more even. His long fingers were running through it at the moment in an attempt to calm the windblown strands more out of nervous habit than vanity. His light blue eyes were wide, and his lips were sticky from the ice cream, his upper lip smeared with it. He purchased some new clothes and worn them out of the store. He was wearing a dark blue shirt and dark brown pants stuffed calf high black work boots. They were steel toed, if he wasn't mistaken. Skwisgaar fought the urge to go to him, to run his own fingers through the soft, shiny brown hair. Twist went his heart again. Every time Toki looked at him with that terrified expression on his face, Skwisgaar crumbled. "I'm sorrys. I asks him to gives to me a rides. Its ams my faults," Toki said, standing up for Pickles. "No, dood, it's my fault. I should've…" began Pickles. "WOULD YOU JUST SHUT THE FUCK UP AND GET IN THE RECORDING STUDIO?" shouted Nathan, hushing the symphony of apologies. They proceeded to do just that. "You, there!" shouted Toki, summoning Klokateer. "Takes all this to my rooms immediatelys!" "Yes, sire," said the Klokateer, motioning for a few others to help. "Yes is rights," Toki said, enjoying wielding control over someone for the first time in his life. Skwisgaar had noticed the exchange when he slowed to wait for Toki, and snorted at him. "Whats? You has a problems?" asked Toki defensively. "Nopes," replied Skwisgaar, forcing down a laugh. Toki rolled his eyes at the ceiling, and crossed his arms. That was the last straw. Skwisgaar doubled over with laughter. Toki snarled at him, which made Skwisgaar laugh even harder. He was wiping the tears from his eyes when Nathan bellowed, "GET YOUR ASSES IN HERE BEFORE I COME OUT THERE AND KILL YOU BOTH, I'M NOT JOKING, I'M SERIOUS, GET THE FUCK IN HERE RIGHT NOW OR I'LL KILL YOU. DEAD." Toki responded by sticking his tongue out at Skwisgaar, who lost it again, and he turned and strode into the studio. Skwisgaar straightened and followed him in, shutting the large doors behind him, struggling to catch his breath. Watching Toki being bossy was just about the funniest thing he had ever seen. "Alright, ya giggling douchebags," said Pickles, "it's time to get some work done."

Skwisgaar demonstrated lines for Toki, provided him with tablature, and guided him through the songs. Toki surprised everyone again when he was able to virtually read Skwisgaar's mind as they played in a haunting call and response style, flowing over one another, melding their sound together, creating hauntingly beautiful magic, much like they had at Toki's audition. Toki was healthier now and was in much better spirits than he had been at any other session, and the time flew. There was still some unnecessary criticism, maybe more than a little, but Toki took it in strides. They made him work hard, but he was accustomed to that. He would do anything to make them happy. He felt he had found a family, a home. He never felt more complete than he did when he was creating and performing with his band mates, his new friends, his brothers. They would despise the use of those terms, but Toki did not. Their revulsion did not bother Toki. He was used to it. Besides, all the words in the world do not equal one single action, and the actions of the men in the studio with him, including the manager who provided him with his legal freedom, had shown some level of support. Even Murderface. When they were drunk the night before, Murderface had grabbed Toki in a head lock, gave him a hard noogie, and said, "Happy birthday, motherfucker! You're in Dethklok now… and fuck you! You suck. You are worthless… unnecessary… everyone cares about you but NO ONE CARES ABOUT ME! Sorry, I got distracted. Happy birthday you Norwegian piece of shit! No one gives a piss!" He had then released him and went to annoy someone else after that. Toki had deciphered a few words, including happy birthday and fuck you, and decided that was the best he was going to get from Murderface. Toki liked everyone, he couldn't help himself. He could find a redeeming quality in absolutely anyone. It was a part of that crushing hope, that optimism that he sometimes feared would be the death of him, but Toki had made peace with the idea of death long ago. Death would have been a welcome escape during the countless miserable days of his youth. He wondered how it could be that one could fear hope and not fear death. He snapped out of it when he heard Pickles' and Skwisgaar's simultaneous shouts at him to stop daydreaming/fuckings off and record that section again. He smiled at them, flexed his fingers, and got back to work.

Later that night, all five men sat in the hot tub as Charles manned the stereo and they all listened back to what they had created. Pickles had one hell of an ear, and the mixing was solid. The drums were devastating, thrashing perfection. The vocals were heavy, the lyrics were furious, and the timing was beyond reproach. The guitars sang, lines fluttering over one another, overlapping, breaking apart, and ringing back together. The bass was thunderous and dark. Congratulations were certainly in order. They knew they had created a song that would withstand the test of time, serve as the backbone of their new style, a style without Magnus, a style that belonged to the five men in the hot tub who were currently getting drunk at a rapid pace. Charles rolled his eyes. The boys had done an excellent job in the studio today, so he humored them and sipped from a flute of champagne. They had created music that was the equivalent of dark magic. He knew deep down in his gut that this was only the beginning of a very long, very profitable, and very influential endeavor for them all. "If only they knew what they are going to mean to the world, how big this will become. I hope they will be ready for it. If not, I will be by their sides to see them through to the very end," he thought. He took a small sip from his glass, watching the boys trying to throw pizza rolls into one another's mouths, landing most of them in the tub rather than their mouths and laughing hysterically. They were slobbering drunk. He rolled his eyes, making a note to himself to get the hot tub cleaned out as soon as they got out of it to avoid permanent damage. His brown eyes suddenly flashed red, then back to brown in a blink, too quickly for anyone to notice. (Save Pickles, but he was distracted at the moment.) There were many things that the boys did not know, and did not need to know at this time. "Later," he thought to himself. He set down his champagne flute and said, "Good work today. There's more to be done, of course," "Downer," interrupted Murderface, who was ignored by everyone. "Enjoy yourselves, but don't go crazy. Well, try not to go too crazy. Look, don't kill anyone. No one dies, alright?" he said. They all looked at Charles for a brief moment, and Pickles said, "Ookkkkaaaaayyyy…" He and Charles exchanged a quick glance. "Ah, Goodnight, boys. I have work to do." He had to leave before anyone noticed the red flashing in his eyes again. "Good work," he said again, and turned and strode out of the room.

Alone in the hall, he could hear the voices speaking to him in strange tongues. He wondered what they were trying to tell him. He could feel the heat when his eyes would flash to red, he had observed it in the mirror several times. It only happened when he was very worn out or very angry. Tonight, he was worn out. He was relieved he finally had something to take to Cornickelson, President of Crystal Mountain Records. The label had really been breathing down his neck about it. They wanted something soon. The band had a gig arranged two weeks from now at a club called the Depths of Humanity. It would be their first show without Magnus Hammersmith, and their first public performance with Toki. The sound had changed significantly since Toki had been brought into the band. There was a beauty chained to the brutality and a strange innocence to many of the guitar parts that Skwisgaar had redesigned. This band was going to skyrocket to the top. It was just a matter of time. And he would be right there, waiting, guiding them every step of the way. The missing link had finally clicked into place when Toki joined the band. The Metalocalypse was upon them. He entered his very private, heavily guarded end of the mansion, and bolted every lock behind him. As he said, he had work to do before he went to bed, just not work as one would usually call it. His eyes flashed completely red and he dropped to his knees, chanting. He heard the familiar call, and followed the voice into the red and black void.

"Dood, if you don't fucking stop farting in the hot tub, I swear to Gahd, I WILL KILL YOU!" slurred Pickles. He was getting very sick of it. He was on the outside, Murderface was between him and Nathan, who was next to Toki, who was next to Skwisgaar, who was on the other end with the neck of his guitar sticking out of the hot tub. Everyone turned and glared at Murderface, who proceeded to fart again, loudly. "OUCH, that HURT you son of a bitch!" he shouted when Nathan socked him in the shoulder. "Restrains yourselves, huh, Murderface?" suggested Skwisgaar. "Fuck you, you cock sucker! I'll break your skinny ass in half!" he replied. Skiwsgaar glanced up from his guitar, spared Murderface a glance, and decided that it was not worth it to injure his hands. There were other methods of revenge, he thought. Speaking of which, he glanced over at Pickles, who was currently having an animated conversation with Toki about some stupid cartoon show that they both apparently enjoyed. Skwisgaar had never known Pickles to watch cartoon shows before. Toki was laughing, and Pickles was grinning wickedly at Skwisgaar, a challenge in his bright green eyes. "Why must everyone raise my temper around here?" Skwisgaar thought to himself, lamenting. "Do they not understand that I am trying not to break my hands across their faces?" Skwisgaar's frustrated anger was disrupted when Murderface let out another loud, disgusting, bubbling fart. Pickles and Nathan punched him simultaneously in both shoulders, and he let out a disturbingly long fart, and the water began to turn brown around him. "DOOD! You just shit the hot tub!" exclaimed Pickles in horror, and everyone began climbing quickly climbing out of the hot tub, each one shoving Murderface back down as they climbed out. Murderface looked up pitifully from the hot tub, surrounded by the brown water. "What? It wasn't me, you fucking assholes!" He climbed out of the tub and ran out of the room, slamming the door to his quarters behind him. Everyone else disbursed quickly to shower, and the Klokateers had to clean yet another mess out of the hot tub. Latex gloves snapped onto hands, masks were secured on faces. It was filthy work, but someone had to do it.

After everyone was clean, they went their separate ways for the night. Pickles had five bottles of liquor, three under one arm, two under the other. He entered his room and slammed the door shut behind him, already too drunk to see straight. Nathan quickly followed suit. Murderface never reemerged from his room. Toki headed into the kitchen to get a drink and maybe a snack or something, and he ran headfirst into Skwisgaar. His long blonde hair was dripping from his shower. He had a towel in his hands and was trying to dry it before he went looking for Toki, thinking to seduce him. He hadn't meant to smash into him. That was not very debonair. He rolled his eyes at himself and helped straighten Toki back up, who had nearly fallen down. He took in the flushed cheeks, the damp hair, the clean, familiar scent of him. He dropped the towel in his hands to the floor and pulled Toki close, wrapping his arms around him. Toki wrapped his arms around Skwisgaar's waist and pressed the side of his face into his bare chest.

_T: When I woke, you were gone. I thought that maybe that was all you wanted from me._

_S: You underestimate me, Little Toki._

_T: I am not little. I am over eighteen years old._

_S: Yes, you certainly are. Now that a few days have passed, you seem no different to me. Other than the haircut and the outfit._

Toki blushed again, hard. Skwisgaar had been somewhat detached during the recording session, and a little guarded around the other guys, but they were alone now, finally, and Skwisgaar was himself again.

_T: I missed you all day today. I thought of you when Pickle took me to IKEA._

_S: You went to IKEA? Why?_

T: There were some things I needed for my room. Pickle took me around and helped me find what I was looking for. My room is full of stuff now. I am going to make it look awesome.

Skwisgaar chuckled at Toki.

_T: You have a goofy sounding laugh, Skwis._

_S: (offended) What do you mean? No I do not!_

Toki performed an incredibly accurate imitation of Skwisgaar's laugh, a low, dorky chuckle. Skwisgaar was outraged.

_S: Okay, my bumblebee. You think you are so funny, huh?_

He plucked Toki in his arms and strode down the hall with him towards his bedroom.

_T: Put me down! Now! I said put me down! Stop hauling me around this place! I DEMAND that you put me DOWN! NOW!_

Skwisgaar tossed Toki onto his plush, white bed, shutting the door behind him and clicking the lock.

_T: If you do not stop carrying me around, I swear that I'll…_

Skwisgaar interrupted him by kneeling on the bed, bringing his face to Toki's. Toki's breathing hitched and started again, quick and shallow.

_S: You'll what? Sting me, bumblebee?_

Toki shoved him so hard that Skwisgaar lost his balance and dropped onto the bed, almost rolling off. Toki grabbed his arm and pulled him easily back up. "Toki is so much stronger than he looks," Skwisgaar thought.

_T: Maybe I will sting you._

_S: I might like it._

Skwisgaar drew Toki's face in for a kiss. Toki groaned and reached out for him, skimming his hands under his shirt, dancing his fingers up and down Skwisgaar's spine. Skwisgaar yanked his own shirt over his head to give Toki more skin to explore with his hands. Toki rose to taste the tender skin at the nape of his neck. Skwisgaar continued to make quick work of ridding himself of clothing, but Toki didn't seem to be in such a rush. Skwisgaar performed the task for him, yanking off his shirt first, then fumbling with the button on his jeans. In seconds, they were both void of their clothing, skin to skin. Skwisgaar rained kisses across Toki's collarbone from one shoulder to the other, then bit down lightly on the other shoulder.

_T: Harder._

Skwisgaar thought he misheard him.

_S: What?_

_T: You heard me. Harder. I want you to leave a mark._

Skwisgaar bit down again, harder, enjoying this bossy Toki more than a little.

Toki whipped Skwisgaar onto his side and sunk his teeth into his shoulder, gently at first, then a little deeper. His hands were working Skwisgaar up as he bit down until he had the older man on the verge of whimpering. Toki drew his head back to admire his handiwork. He had marked Skwisgaar. "Mine," he thought.

_T: Now you bear my mark, and I bear yours._

Sky blue eyes locked with sapphire eyes, not in question, but in authority.

_T: I belong to you. Guide me_.

Again, this was not a question. Skwisgaar was all to happy to oblige.

_S: Some of this will hurt a bit. We will take it slow. We can stop whenever you want._

Toki grabbed Skwigaar's face and kissed him hard on the lips, holding his captive there until Skwisgaar's passion was fully ignited.

_T: Guide me. I am yours._

So gently, tenderly, Skwisgaar helped Toki explore his sexuality with mouths and hands and then slowly, carefully, himself. Toki bit down through the pain and let the pleasure take it's place. Skwisgaar's expert hands worked all the while, and Toki was the first to fall, with Skwisgaar following him almost immediately. When it was over, Skwisgaar turned Toki to face him, and wrapped his arms around him, pulling him in close, tucking him under his chin. Toki returned the embrace and nuzzled Skwisgaar's neck.

_S: You are so unbelievably sweet, Little Toki. Are you okay?_

_T: Yes, I am._

They lay there, wrapped up in one another for a while. It was decided that Toki was going to sleep in Skwisgaar's room for the night. Skwisgaar pulled on his jeans and headed to the kitchen for a couple bottles of water. On his way back, he stuck his head in Toki's room and grabbed deady bear. When he returned to the bedroom, he said, "Heads ups!" and tossed him a cold bottle and his bear.

_T: I am not a child, Skwis. I do not need a bear to sleep with._

_S: I chose not to call your bluff. Maybe I just like seeing it in your arms._

Accepting defeat, Toki laid the bed on the pillow next to his head. Skwisgaar climbed back in beside him. It didn't take long before they were both asleep.

The next morning, Skwisgaar's alarm went off at an obscenely early hour. He threw a pillow at it, but the blaring would not stop until he walked over to it and hit the button. It was 8:00 AM. "No one should have to wake this early, it should be illegal," he thought to himself as he looked down at Toki, who could apparently sleep through a tornado. The racket hadn't even caused him to stir. He gave Toki's shoulders a rough shake. "Aurnghahhhh", protested Toki. He pressed a kiss to Toki's nose, and his light blue eyes popped open and stared directly into Skwisgaar's.

_S: Well, good morning. Nice to see your eyes again. We have work to do, so get up, you hungover, lazy sloth._

Toki sat up and rubbed his eyes. He was bare chested, covered only by the white fur blankets that surrounded his waist. He pushed his hair out of his face and looked at Skwisgaar, who was already dressed. Toki followed suit. He went into Skwisgaar's bathroom and brushed his hair with one of Skwisgaar's many brushes, and Skwisgaar handed him a pre-wrapped toothbrush. He kept them on hand. He blushed a little when Toki stared at him. "I takes good cares of my teeth," he explained with a shrug. They emerged from Skwisgaar's room together, dressed in the clothes from the night before. Again. When they entered the kitchen together to find the coffee, they realized they were being watched. Nathan and Pickles were already at the table gobbling down the Belgian waffles the chef had made. Charles was standing just to the side of the kitchen table, simply observing. He could tell by the way they looked at one another that there was something between them. "This is so unlike Skwisgaar," he thought to himself again. They were trying to play it cool, but Toki's flush and Skwisgaar's inability to make eye contact with anyone confirmed what their mouths refused to. Nathan noticed them walk in together, but thought nothing of it. His brain was filled with the polyrhythms that he and Pickles had been discussing. Once he began talking about music, it was hard for him to focus on anything else. It consumed his very being. Toki and Skwisgaar made quick, quiet work of filling their plates and grabbing their coffee. They sat next to one another at the table, staring at their plates like they held the answers to the mysteries of the universe. Nathan's brain was too busy swirling with syncopations and how to layer the lyrics over them in the most effective manner to notice that Toki and Skwisgaar had yet to speak since they entered the room. Pickles and Charles noticed, exchanging yet another knowing glance. Pickles lips were turned up in his trademark lopsided grin, Charles's face unreadable as ancient markings before the discovery of the Rosetta Stone. However, Charles's eyes did convey amusement in a flash. If Pickles had blinked, he would have missed it. He never missed a muscle twitch in Charles's face. In a matter of seconds, the quiet was disrupted by the entrance of Murderface, who was clearly not happy about being awake at this 'ungodly' hour. He grabbed a coffee mug and filled it up, taking a big gulp before he noticed the heavy silence settle back in. "What the fuck is going on in here? What? Were you talking about me? Is that what it is? You were all talking about me, and now that I'm in here, none of you pussies can say it to my face!" he shouted, throwing his coffee mug to the floor without thinking about it, and hot coffee splashed up and burned his legs. "Oh, son of a bitch!" he screamed, hopping around, knocking into cabinets, trying to find the paper towels. At this point, everyone in the room, including Nathan, had shaken out of their collective fogs and started laughing at Murderface. "You motherfuckers! You can all SHOVE IT!" A Klokateer had moved in to take care of the mess he had made, and he had been given a fresh mug. "William, ah, contrary to your presumption, no one was talking about you before you entered the room. No one was talking at all," Charles said, glancing at Pickles out of the corner of his eye, then at the quiet Scandinavians. "HA HA HA, MURDERFACE, YOU IDIOT. COME EAT SOMETHING. WE HAVE WORK TO DO," said Nathan, beckoning Murderface to join them at the table. He was hoping to keep the theatrics to a minimum. They didn't have much time before their first gig with Toki, and there was work to be done. "Fine," said Murderface, expertly playing the role of the martyr, wiping as much coffee off himself as he could, and dropping into a chair next to Nathan. Nathan and Pickles resumed their conversation about drums and their symmetry with the lyrics, and Toki and Skwisgaar remained silent, having finished eating. Skwisgaar was running through his scales on one of his unplugged Gibson Explorers, warming his fingers up. Toki was picking at a bit of uneaten food, stealing the occasional glance at Skwisgaar, trying to make it look as though he was solely observing his technique. Skwisgaar looked up at Pickles, who was staring at the two of them without trying to hide the interest. "Fucking Pickles," Skwisgaar thought. He knew exactly what was going on. He had a bone to pick with him, and the perfect bargaining chip.

After everyone had rose from the kitchen table and began making their way into the studio, Skwisgaar cornered Pickles and said, "Pickle, I needs to talks to you." "What do you want?" Pickles asked. He already knew, but he was not going to give it up without at least a little bit of a fight. He was a true prick through and through, and simply couldn't help himself. "I knows you knows what ams goings on. So I wills say to you this, please leave Tokis alone. I asks this of you as a favors of a friend." Skwisgaar said, surprising Pickles. He had been expected a heated exchange of words. "Dood, it's not like that. I took him to the store because he asked me to. You were all he would talk about anyway. Skwisgaar this, Skwisgaar that, would Skwisgaar wear this, what would Skwisgaar think of that. I never even got a word in edgewise." He grinned at Skwisgaar then, who's face had relaxed considerably. "Thanks you, Pickle. Now yous don'ts has to worry about me tellings anyones about yous and Charles." It was Skwisgaar's turn to grin into Pickles' shocked face. "What, you tinks I ams stupids and blinds? I knows you, Pickle. So, we has an understandings, thens?" he asked simply. "Yes, I guess so," said Pickles, floored at the idea that Skwisgaar knew anything about him and Charles. He wondered if Charles knew. Skwisgaar smiled like the sun at Pickles and said, "Well, are we goings to be recordings now?" "Yes, we are." As if on command, Nathan's voice boomed out through the monitors, "GET THE FUCK IN HERE BEFORE I KNOCK YOUR HEADS TOGETHER." "Yeah, you fucking assholes!" added Murderface. Toki was already in the booth, tuning his guitar carefully, so he missed the exchange between Skwisgaar and Pickles entirely, but Charles did not. He and Skwisgaar needed to have a chat soon.

As it had the day before, the recording session went smoothly between Skwisgaar and Toki. It was amazing how well they meshed together, how instinctive their playing had become. Skwisgaar still lorded over Toki in the booth and during rehearsals, but Toki took it in strides. They were oblivious to the curious stares from their band mates. Watching the two of them in the booth together was like watching magic being made. Together, they were incredibly strong, and they fed off of each other's energy and proximity. Everyone was pleased with the quality of the recordings, and they were feeling more optimistic than ever about their potential record sales. Charles believed that they were going to outperform even the highest of the expectations that the record company had placed on them. The five of them created dark magic together, and it was going to cast a spell on the entire world. Charles stood back, quietly observing, allowing everything to unfold as is was supposed to. He now wore brown contact lenses under his wire rimmed glasses full time to mask the flashes of red that came and left his eyes with an alarming frequency these days. Something big was about to happen, and he knew they were ready for whatever may come their way. He had seen to it personally that their safety, health, and well being were taken care of around the clock. The boys had no idea what was truly at stake, and he worked hard to keep it that way. He left them to their work, and went to attend to other matters.

After the recording session, the band members all headed to the hot tub to unwind. It had been cleaned thoroughly, and though everyone gave Murderface hell about the night before, he was eventually allowed back in. Klokateers began bringing trays of finger foods and a variety of drinks, depending on the demand of the drinker. They got slowly drunk and talked about the upcoming gig, and then the conversation moved to unimportant gossip and/or talk about sporting events, movies, TV shows, etc. The whole while, Toki and Skwisgaar spoke to one another in their mishmash of languages, openly discussing the events of the past few nights, believing their band mates to be oblivious.

_T: Everything that we did, it was the first time for me._

_S: It is humbling to me that. I cherish that you gave me the gift of yourself._

_T: I have strong feelings, Skwis. They continue to grow by the moment._

_S: I know, Little Toki. But these things cannot be rushed._

_T: I just want to announce it to the world. I am yours, and you are mine!_

When he said that, he splashed a hand through the water splashing Nathan and Skwisgaar. "TOKI, CALM THE FUCK DOWN! IF YOU SPLASH ME AGAIN, I WILL KILL YOU. I AM NOT JOKING. I WILL ACTUALLY KILL YOU," said Nathan in his most reasonable tone. "Sorrys, Natans. I wills nots do its agains. Don'ts kills Tokis. Please…" "URRRNUHGHHH…" grunted Nathan. Toki took that to mean he wasn't going to kill him this time, and he grinned at Skwisgaar.

_T: Sorry, Skwis. I got a little excited._

_S: Well, you need to calm down. They are going to notice._

Toki's face fell a bit. Skwisgaar's heart twisted again.

_S: No, Toki, I just meant…_

_T: Nevermind, Skwis. It's okay._

He smiled at Skwisgaar, who smiled back down at him.

Pickles had been watching the entire exchange between the two. He had been trying to learn a few Norwegian phrases so he could talk to the boy, but from what he picked up, Toki only had eyes for Skwisgaar. Hell, Pickles could tell from just looking at them together. He didn't even need that Norwegian phrase book. Neither one of them knew that he had begun trying to learn the language. Pickles smiled at Skwisgaar across the tub, and Skwisgaar glared back at him, feeling suddenly uncomfortable. Toki quickly earned his attention back by rubbing his ankle against Skwisgaar's under the water.

Skwisgaar wondered what would become of all this. He was still in unfamiliar terrain. His feelings for Toki were unlike those of any he had ever felt for anyone. He did not like that Pickles knew about it. "Fucking Pickles," he thought again, and took a long drink from a cool bottle. He would think about it later, as thinking still was not among his strong suits.

Toki was in love for the first time in his life, and he wondered how he was going to express it to Skwisgaar. He, too, was in unfamiliar territory. They sat together, fingers intertwined under the water every time Skwisgaar put the guitar down to take a drink. Toki looked at the bite mark on Skwisgaar's shoulder. His long, blonde hair mostly covered it. But nothing covered the bite mark on his own shoulder. It did not matter to him. "Mine," he thought again, gripping Skwisgaar's fingers a little tighter under the water. Finally, something to call his own.

Little did Toki know that Skwisgaar's thoughts were virtually identical to his own.

Later that night, they lie together in Toki's bed, in what seemed to be turning into a rotating schedule, wrapped up in one another and exhausted. There was still so much work to be done. As each fell asleep, he had a final thought pass through his mind, along with an image of the one he was holding.

"Min kjærlighet(2)"

"Min kärlek(3)"

Then they dropped into dreamless sleep. For the second night in a row, Toki did not have night terrors.

Notes: (1) Demon bli borte- Demon be gone (Norwegian)

(2) Min kjærlighet- My love (Norwegian)

(3) Min kärlek- My love (Swedish)


	5. ExplosionFace

Chapter Five (Journey to Mordhaus)

(Notes at the bottom)

**ExplosionFace**

Nathan Explosion ground his teeth, balled his fists, and struggled to keep them at his sides, his eyes murderous shards of frozen green. "What the fuck's YOUR problem?" demanded Murderface, who had just staggered into the booth, interrupting him in the middle of laying down a vocal track. Pickles had been manning the boards. "I WAS RECORDING, YOU IDIOT! THIS HAD BETTER BE IMPORTANT," said Nathan, still trying to suppress his rage. Murderface took a step back. He was very familiar with Nathan's temper. "Hey, I didn't know you were recording, man, just thought you were practicing," he lisped cautiously, "There was no one manning the boards, so I..." Nathan's head snapped up as he glared through the glass at the empty chair in front of the boards. "PICKLES!" he shouted. "WHAT THE FUCK?" Murderface shrugged and crouched back, putting his hands up in defense in case Nathan snapped. He did not want to be the one under those tightly balled fists. Just then, Pickles came out of the bathroom, candy nosed and vibrating with overstimulation. Nathan snatched off his headset, threw it to the ground with a loud crash, and stomped out of the booth toward Pickles, not bothering to slam the door behind him. Murderface did not move a muscle. It's not that he was scared, he assured himself, it's just that he knew all too well what kind of pain that Nathan could inflict on someone when he became that angry. A fleeting image of the Incredible Hulk with long black hair flashed through his mind, and he almost laughed out loud. Instead, he closed his eyes, exhaled, and waited to see what was about to unfold.

Pickles dabbed at the drops of blood under his nose obliviously and looked up when he heard Nathan's heavy tread as he stomped out of the booth. He took in the barely suppressed fury and took a step back, much as Murderface had done. "PICKLES! WHAT THE FUCK?" Nathan shouted, "HOW LONG HAVE YOU BEEN AWAY FROM THE BOARDS?" "Dood, I just took a little bathroom break. Ya know, powdered my nose a little. Calm down, dood," Pickles said. Nathan lunged forward and grabbed Pickles up by the collar of his shirt, murder flashing in his green eyes, taking in the dusting of white around Pickles' nostrils, and he felt a fresh surge of rage. "POWDERED YOUR NOSE?" Nathan said, shaking the smaller man hard. "YOU FUCKING DUMBASS! YOU DIDN'T EVEN TELL ME YOU HAD LEFT THE ROOM! I THOUGHT WE WERE RECORDING THE WHOLE TIME!" Pickles flushed. He had hoped that Nathan wouldn't notice he had left. He had been in the bathroom for about ten minutes, and he knew that Nathan had a one-track mind when he was making music. His plan had been to come back out and tell Nathan that it needed to be re-recorded because it wasn't brutal enough before he noticed he was gone. It always worked before. He saw Murderface in the booth, hands still slightly raised in defense, and shot him a lethal glare. Just then, Nathan's fist connected with Pickles' right eye as the other plowed into his stomach, taking the breath out of him. He collapsed onto the floor, doubled over in pain. "WE HAVE TO GET THIS DONE!" Nathan growled. "WE NEED SOMETHING TO SELL AT THE GIG! HOW ABOUT IF YOU FUCKING FOCUS ON THE MUSIC FOR ONCE!" Pickles looked up at him pathetically, still curled up on the floor, so Nathan jerked him easily to a semi-standing position. Pickles looked at him, sniffed, wiped his nose, and said, "Dood. Nathan. Calm down. We are going to get this done. We always do." Nathan crossed his arms and glared down at the shorter man, still furious, but satisfied with the rapid pace of the swelling of his band mate's eye. "Maybe now he'll put down the powder and get back to work," Nathan mused. Pickles' drug and alcohol use were nothing new, but lately, as the deadline approached, it had become noticeably worse. Nathan rolled his eyes at the ceiling, let out a long, deep sigh, and dropped his arms to his sides. He was going to try and not do any more damage than he had already done. Charles had asked him to try not to punch people, but he wasn't sure whether or not that applied to band mates yet. He was not in the mood to deal with anyone's feelings. "PICKLES," he began, as patiently as he could, "WIPE YOUR FUCKING NOSE AND DO YOUR JOB." Pickles realized that the crisis had been averted for the moment, and complied, dropping into a chair in front of the boards, fiddling nervously with knobs and switches. "Ready when you are," he said, peering at Nathan through the slit in his swollen right eye. He was feeling wounded. His pretty face had taken more than it's fair share of abuse lately. Thank God the publicity shots had been taken only days prior. The bruise on his chin, compliments of Skwisgaar, had faded enough for the corpse pain to erase it. He had always had a skilled hand with makeup, he mused as he watched Murderface help Nathan find another headset and back out of the booth carefully, never turning his back to Nathan. Murderface moved with the precision of a surgeon, terrified of being beaten to a pulp simply for being in Nathan's vicinity. After Murderface closed the door to the booth behind him, he dropped into a chair next to Pickles, watching him prep to record. He switched on the talkback mic and said, "Ready to roll in three… two… one…" He flipped the switch and the Nathan's ears filled with soaring guitars and unerring percussion. He was lost in the music again, using the rage he felt as a catalyst. Pickles and Murderface watched him through the glass, amazed and terrified simultaneously. Nathan had a tendency to become violent rather quickly, and when rage took hold, it was very difficult for him to calm down. As they listened to Nathan's furious, screaming lyrics, they both recalled when Nathan lost himself in rage and punched the son of Roy Cornickelson, CEO of Crystal Mountain Records, in the face when he interrupted a business meeting and proceeded to taunt the members of Dethklok. When the young man asked him what kind of music they played, Nathan had responded, "DEATH METAL," and punched him in the face. He swore vengeance on him and on the band. Fortunately for them, at this time, his father was still in charge of the label, and Charles was the watchdog over Dethklok. Pickles and Murderface sat there for a moment, looked at one another, and Pickles said, "Dood, why don'tcha get the fuck out of here, alright?" He blamed Murderface partially for having been assaulted, as Nathan probably would not have noticed his momentary absence if he had not strolled into the booth. Murderface flipped Pickles off with little contempt and left the studio before he ended up with another black eye.

Murderface headed in the direction of the common room with hopes of watching a Civil War documentary, and rolled his eyes when he saw Skwisgaar and Toki sitting on the couch, legs crossed, knees touching, a favored position for the pair, particularly when they were passing a joint back and forth. At the moment, they were giggling (GIGGLING!) at one another as Skwisgaar continued his corpse paint tutorial. There was a stupid cartoon on the gigantic television screen, something brightly colored with subtitles. Murderface stood back and observed the pair from the doorway.

_S: …and then you add another layer of white over the black right here, just a little bit, to give it more of a look of decomposition._

Toki held up the hand mirror and watched as Skwisgaar carefully applied the white stage makeup over the black, blending it to grey in certain areas and leaving it stark white in others. The effect was a zombie like façade. Toki giggled at his reflection again. He was having a fine time with Skwisgaar teaching him how to apply makeup. He put the mirror down and looked up at the blonde man whose face was blotchy with patches of black and white, applied by Toki's very unskilled hands.

_T: I apologize for what I have done to your poor face…_

The chuckle Toki had been trying to suppress burst out just then, and he slapped a hand over his mouth.

_S: Damn it, Toki! You have to remember not to touch your face when you are in corpse paint! Now your face is smeared with a handprint! Idiot!_

_T: Okay, fine. You try looking at your face for a whole minute in this mirror. If you do not laugh, you win._

_S: What do I win?_

_T: Bragging rights._

_S: That's all? Bragging rights?_

Toki grinned wickedly at Skwisgaar, a smile breaking through the smeared paint, the handprint still visible across his mouth. He could not deny Toki anything.

_S: Fine. What do you get out of it?_

Toki considered this for a moment.

_T: If you lose, you will have to allow me to apply your makeup the night of the gig, and wear it on stage in front of everyone. _

Skwisgaar could not help but chuckle at him. He knew that it was bad, but he had yet to see it for himself.

_S: Define bragging rights._

_T: When you are the victor, you claim the victory. The bragging rights are permission to claim whatever it is that you want._

Skwisgaar looked at Toki, considering.

_S: I get to determine my own prize?_

Toki nodded.

_S: All right, you have a deal._

Toki held the mirror up to Skwisgaar's face, and immediately lost it when he saw Skwisgaar's reaction to his reflection. The revulsion was obvious.

_S: What have you done, Toki?! I look like a polka dot faced clown!_

Toki could not stop laughing even if he tried. Skwisgaar looked away from the mirror briefly at the younger man.

_T: NO! Skwis, you must face yourself for sixty seconds!_

Skwisgaar's gaze snapped back to his reflection. He looked like a Dalmatian, complete with a black spot on his nose. The corners of his lips began to twitch. The laughter started to rise in his throat, and he pressed it down as hard as he could.

_T: 20, 19, 18, 17, 16, 15…_

Before Toki got to 14, Skwisgaar lost it, laughing like a foghorn. He slapped a hand over his mouth in horror. Toki was going to do his corpse paint at the gig. He was going to look like a Dalmatian on stage.

_T: Skwis! You're not supposed to touch your face, remember?_

Skwisgaar looked back at his reflection. He had a handprint across his mouth similar to the one he admonished Toki over. Toki was laughing so hard that he was almost crying. Skwisgaar started to say something when he was rudely interrupted by Murderface's loud lisp, "WOULD YOU TWO JUST SHUT THE FUCK UP FOR FIVE SECONDS? JUH-HEEEEZ! Don't you morons know how to speak English? Sitting over there like a couple of giggling high school girls putting on makeup for prom or some shit!" Toki and Skwisgaar looked up at Murderface, shocked and furious at the rude interruption. "Yes, we dos knows how to speakings the English, Murderface," said Toki. "Yeah, we dos knows a lots of how to be speakings the Englishes, better even maybe than yous," spat Skwisgaar. "I can't understand what the fuck you morons are saying right now!" Murderface yelled. "I have a migraine. I just need to get the fuck out of here. Fuck you, you gay assholes." Skwisgaar started to rise, but Toki caught his hands and pulled him back down to the couch.

_T: Please, just let him walk away. You have to stop hitting people. Your hands are only just recovering from the last time._

Skwisgaar looked down at his hands. Toki was right. He was tired of injuring his hands on the faces of stupid dildos, anyway.

_S: Fine, little Toki. For you._

Toki's face broke into a smile. Murderface was incensed. "You motherfuckers need to speak English, for God's sake. This is America!" He was sick of feeling excluded all the time. Nathan was always lost in his music, obsessing over it with Pickles or Skwisgaar. He didn't have time for him anymore, in spite of their history. Now he felt excluded yet again with Skwisgaar and the new guy putting make up on one another in the common room, giggling like teenage girls, speaking their mysterious mixture of languages that Murderface had no inclination to learn. Earlier today, when he entered the booth, he just wanted to be included in the process somehow. Now he couldn't even go into the living room to watch TV without feeling excluded from something. It was bullshit! He turned around and stomped out of the room in the direction of the study. Toki and Skwisgaar turned back to one another. Toki was still holding his hands gently. Skwisgaar roped his hands up Toki's arms and pulled him closer, foreheads touching.

_S: Thank you for keeping me from injuring my hands again._

_T: You are welcome. This gig is very important to me. You see, my reputation is at stake here, and I cannot have a guitarist with injured hands holding me back._

Skwisgaar released Toki and blinked at him in surprise. Toki almost fell off the couch laughing. Skwisgaar hauled him up onto his lap, wrapping his long arms around Toki's waist, pulling him under and resting his chin on his head. Toki gave a token struggle. This was not very dignified. But Toki was not particularly concerned with dignity. At least, not where his guitar god was concerned. Skwisgaar's long blonde hair fell over Toki's shoulders like a golden wig. He looked down at the strands and wondered what he would look like with blonde hair. Skwisgaar reached out to the table and grabbed a pack of makeup remover cloths. He let go of Toki, pulled out a few and handed them to him.

_S: We need to try this again. We have both smeared our makeup, and if you are going to do my makeup for the gig, you have a lot of practicing to do. _

They began rubbing the paint off their faces and started again. Skwisgaar was not going to allow Toki to turn him into a Dalmatian at the upcoming gig. "Dalmatians are not very metal," he thought. They tossed the used wipes and Skwisgaar began giving Toki instructions as he watched his progress in the mirror he held up behind Toki's head. Toki had leaned in close to Skwisgaar's face, his own screwed with concentration, biting down on the little bit of his tongue that stuck out the side of his mouth. "He's just so damn cute, Skwisgaar thought." Skwisgaar shocked him by leaning in and kissing him directly on the nose. Toki jumped backward and hit his head on the mirror Skwisgaar had been holding. The blonde man rolled his eyes. Toki had caused him to drop the mirror. Now they needed another one. He summoned a Klokateer to bring one. In the meantime, he watched Toki watch the cartoon out of the corner of his eyes as he worked with the face paint. Skwisgaar let out a long-suffering sigh and resigned himself to looking ridiculous at the gig.

After Murderface stomped out of the common room, he stood back and observed the Scandinavians again for a little while longer from the hallway. He was uncomfortable with his fascination with the two of them together. It made him feel… weird. He slammed his way into his 'study', a very small office with a desk, a couple of chairs, a small bookshelf that held a gigantic, old fashioned typewriter and a few books. There was a ridiculously out of date desktop computer on the crowded desk. The room was dusty and poorly lit, and it smelled of the old fur of the animals that underwent taxidermy to become office decor. A gigantic Confederate flag had been tacked to the wall with pushpins. He sat down behind the desk, pushed all the books and papers off with a sweep of his arm, knocking many of them into the wastebin. He pulled open a desk drawer, unearthed a bottle of migraine pills and swallowed down four, chasing them with a beer. (He had a small refrigerator behind the desk with a bottle cap opener attached.) He put his elbows on the now empty space on the desk, looking at the typewriter that graced the bookshelf. Next to the typewriter was an old framed picture of himself and Nathan at his high school graduation. It was supposed to be 'their' graduation, but Nathan dropped out right after football season senior year to focus solely on his music. He still came to graduation to support Murderface, though. In the picture, Murderface is holding up his diploma, glaring with deliberate disinterest at the photographer. Nathan was wrapped in his letterman jacket, despite the fact that it was early June. It was the only thing he had to prove his accomplishments in school, so he hung on to it like a talisman that night. Nathan's mother was mortified by his decision to drop out of school, and refused to attend the graduation ceremony with her son. His father decided to stay home and drink a beer or two or three instead, so Nathan walked all the way to the stadium in his letterman jacket to attend. Murderface offered Nathan a ride after the ceremony, and they'd swiped an 18 pack from Murderface's grandparent's beer fridge located in the garage and got hammered.

He still remembered the first time he met Nathan Explosion. Murderface had been a sophomore when his family moved into the area, and he was seated as far back in the classroom as he could get. He was the new kid, again. He wondered who would try to kick his ass first. He looked up when the door opened and Nathan lumbered to the classroom and plopped down with a grunt in the chair next to him. Nathan was accustomed to being the new kid, too. His family traveled around the country until his father retired from the military and his parents decided to settle in Florida. The football coach had quickly recruited him, as his reputation on the field preceded him. He pulled out a notebook, and began scribbling in it with careful handwriting. Unable to resist, Murderface leaned over and read.

**YOUR SOUL IS TRAPPED, AN HOURGLASS.**

**YOU SCREAM FOR AIR, THE TIME RUNS FAST.**

**THE BLOOD POURS FROM YOUR EYES TO FILL**

**THE GLASS MUCH FASTER THAN THE TIME WILL.**

**YOUR LUNGS, THEY CHOKE, FULL OF THE GRAIN,**

**WILL YOU DROWN IN TIME OR IN THE BLOOD RAIN?**

**AND ALL WILL WATCH YOUR LIPS TURN BLUE**

**AND SEE THE LIFE AS IT DRAINS OUT OF YOU**

**THEN ALL AT ONCE YOU'LL FEEL THE PAIN**

**AS YOU DROWN UNDERNEATH THE BLOOD RAIN!**

"Wow…" Murderface murmured before he could stop himself. He could see the image in his mind, trapped inside an hourglass filling rapidly with blood and golden sand… the black clouds cracking open, the red pouring from the sky…

Nathan grunted at the awkward looking guy with the strangely triangular head who was looking in his precious lyric book. He snapped it shut and stared daggers at Murderface. Murderface took a chance and lisped out, "I couldn't help but notice. It's really good stuff, man." He blushed and snapped his head back to face the front of the classroom. Nathan looked down at the well-worn book in his hands, then over at Murderface. Socializing was not something Nathan excelled at. He was better at giving people concussions on the football field than he was at making friends. His music was his dirty little secret. Everyone else was always so intimidated by him. This guy was too oblivious to be intimidated. He said he liked his lyrics. No one else had been brave enough to attempt to read from his notebook, let alone compliment the lyrics. They generally just averted their gaze. Curiously, he continued to stare at the young man with the lime green eyes. He was not afraid of him. That was new. A few moments later, a crumpled piece of paper landed on his desk. He scowled at it, looking up to see where it came from. Murderface mouthed, 'read it'. Nathan smoothed the paper out carefully, trying to avoid detection.

_"sorry I read your paper dude, no disrespect. –murderface"_

Murderface? Nathan looked over at the young man. What the hell was that supposed to mean? He scowled. The teacher was having the class perform the nightmare-inducing ritual of introducing themselves to the rest of the class. When Murderface's turn came, the teacher gestured for him to rise. He did so, pushing himself out of the desk with a huff. "Please tell the class your name, young man," the teacher said kindly. "William Murderface," he lisped. The class began snickering at him. "That's enough!" said the teacher. "Thank you, William. Take your seat. Next?" she said, gesturing to Nathan. "Please stand and tell the class your name. "NATHAN EXPLOSION." The class began to snicker, much as they had at Murderface. "WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU LAUGHING AT!?" Nathan screamed, picking up a vacant desk and throwing it across the room. It hit a bookshelf and cracked it in half. Everyone gasped. The teacher began calling for help. The football coach came and took him to the office, and he and the principal of the school sat with him and spoke with him. "Nathan, what happened in there?" asked the coach. In all his years as a teacher and a coach, he had never seen a student throw a desk that far and cause that much damage in such a short period of time. "THEY WERE LAUGHING AT ME AND THAT OTHER GUY BECAUSE OF OUR NAMES," Nathan growled. The principal looked at Nathan sternly. "You have two choices. You can either keep regular appointments with the school counselor and serve two weeks detention helping out with custodial work, or you can be suspended from school for a week and cut from the football team. We do not accept this sort of conduct from our star players at this school, Mr. Explosion." He looked at his Coach, who nodded his head. "Nathan, you might have an anger problem." "NO I DON'T!" Nathan shouted, face beginning to flush with rage. "Enough," said the principal coolly. "You will make your choice, and you will speak to us with the expected decorum." "Nathan, we are only looking out for your best interest," said the Coach. Nathan was one hell of a defensive end, and he did not want to lose him. "FINE," Nathan grumbled dramatically. "I'LL DO THE DETENTION AND SEE THE COUNSELOR." "Excellent choice, Mr. Explosion," said the principal. "You are dismissed. Your detention will begin this afternoon." Nathan suppressed the urge to sigh and stood and left.

A few hours later, Nathan was in the cafeteria, and he noticed Murderface wandering around, looking for a seat. He caught his eye and gestured him to the table where he sat alone. Murderface made his way to the table gratefully. He sat down in front of Nathan, who was staring at him through emerald eyes, considering him, analyzing him. "So…" Murderface began after clearing his throat, "Are you okay, man?" Nathan kept his eyes locked on the other boy's face. Nathan was a very intense person with a singular focus. It was why he had so much trouble making and keeping friends. His mother dragged him to doctors, psychologists and speech pathologists during his childhood because he 'couldn't focus.' The truth was he refused to focus on anything that bored him. He also would not be mocked. He heard no sarcasm in Murderface's question, so he answered simply. "THEY ARE MAKING DO TWO WEEKS AFTER SCHOOL DETENTION. CUSTODIAL WORK. THEY ARE MAKING ME SEE THE COUNSELOR. IT'S BULLSHIT." "Sounds like it," commented Murderface, sticking his fork into the mysterious concoction on his tray. "So, are you a musician?" "YES, I AM. I HEAR SONGS IN MY HEAD ALL DAY EVERY DAY. I ALWAYS HAVE A NOTEBOOK WITH ME SO I DON'T FORGET A GOOD IDEA." "I'm a musician, too. Well, sort of," Murderface said. "I play tuba in the marching band." "GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE, MAN, ARE YOU KIDDING ME?" Nathan asked, laughing. Murderface puffed his chest up in indignation. "What, you got a problem with it, asshole?" Nathan again marveled at the fact that Murderface was not afraid of him. He never really had anyone to talk to before. He was always bumbling and awkward, and people had a hard time understanding him. But this guy understood him fine. "NO, I DON'T. I PLAY THE PIANO." He flushed. "MY MOM MADE ME TAKE LESSONS AS A KID, AND MOST OF IT STUCK WITH ME." "I also play the bass guitar," commented Murderface. "THAT'S PRETTY COOL. MAYBE WE CAN GET TOGETHER AND JAM SOMETIME." Murderface smiled. "That sounds great, man. Let's do it."

Murderface shook his head in an attempt to clear the memory. He and Nathan had been friends for a long time, and they had been through a lot over the years. They looked out for one another, Nathan with his brawn and Murderface with his (admittedly small) brain. They would talk music together, such as it was. Nathan would talk music, and Murderface would pretend to understand. Then there was the time that Murderface suggested that they start a prog rock duo…

"It'll be you on keyboard and vocals, and I'll play my bass guitar. There's never been another group like it, man! Totally unique! We can call it… ExplosionFace!" proclaimed Murderface enthusiastically. "MURDERFACE. WE CAN'T HAVE A BAND WITHOUT GUITARS OR DRUMS. AND IF I'M IN A BAND, IT HAS TO BE BRUTAL, BUT NOT THAT KIND OF BRUTAL. DEATH METAL BRUTAL, NOT STUPID BRUTAL," Nathan explained. "C'mon, man, it's solid gold! Can't we at least keep the name?" he whined. "ExplosionFace! It sounds like a winner to me!" "NO. WE WILL NEVER SPEAK OF THIS AGAIN. IF YOU MENTION IT, I SWEAR THAT I WILL KILL YOU. DEAD. I'LL KILL YOU AND BURY YOU IN A LANDFILL. NO ONE WILL EVER FIND YOU," warned Nathan. Even as a teenager, those piercing green eyes were powerful. "Well, if you want to throw away such a great idea, I suppose it's up to you…" "EXPLOSIONFACE SOUNDS LIKE A BAD PORNO!" The words hung in the air for a moment, and the two burst into laughter. Nathan punched Murderface lightly in the shoulder. "DON'T WORRY, MAN. WE'LL FIGURE IT OUT."

That's how it had always been between the two… until Pickles and Skwisgaar came into the picture. Murderface scowled. Nathan had been the only friend he ever had, and as soon as those two assholes showed up, Nathan never had time for him anymore. He supposed he was lucky to be in Dethklok in the first place. Maybe he wouldn't have been… if it weren't for Nathan's insistence. But Pickles and Skwisgaar were in a totally different league than him musically, and he felt left out. When Toki first came into the picture, Murderface was apathetic. Toki did not challenge his position in the group. But before Toki, Skwisgaar was mostly silent, only speaking when asked a question or when talking shop. Now he and that Norwegian were together 24/7. You scarcely saw one without the other anymore. When they weren't in practice or meetings, they were usually sitting together somewhere, whispering to one another in their mysterious language. Why in the hell did seeing them together make his guts churn like this? He was sickened by it, he told himself. It was unnatural, disgusting, and foreign. He was NOT jealous, he told himself. Frustrated, he grabbed one of many knives handy in any space he occupied, rolled up one of the legs of his shorts and began carving lines into his inner thigh, a space no one ever noticed. That thought alone had him carving a little more. He stabbed the bloody tip of the knife into the desk, as he was wont to do, and watched the blood seep out of the cuts. Inevitably, the stinging began as the numbness wore off, and he was pressing tissues to the wounds. He decided that he would have another beer. Or two.

After Nathan and Pickles had recorded the final track, listened to it, re-recorded it, listened to it again, re-recorded it, and repeated the process a few times, they were finally both happy with the end result. They were going to make their deadline. "THIS IS NICE AND HEAVY," commented Nathan. "It's really starting to come together, ya know?" said Pickles. This is what he had been longing for all throughout his music career, dark, heavy, brutal music. "We need the other guys to come in and listen," he said. "YOU'RE RIGHT," said Nathan, who dispatched a Klokateer to find the rest of his band mates. In the meantime, the two rewound the track and listened to it again, as if something had changed in the thirty seconds since they'd heard it last.

**KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK**

Toki and Skwisgaar both jumped at the sound, having been rudely disturbed from their reverie. Skwisgaar was sitting at the end of his bed, practicing guitar as Toki watched adoringly.

**KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK**

"Damns it, WHO AMS IT?" shouted Skwisgaar, setting the guitar down. "Sire, your presence is requested in the recording studio," answered the low voiced hooded figure outside the door. Skwisgaar rolled his eyes and glanced at Toki, who was stretched out on his stomach on the bed with his face in his hands, gazing at him like he was the answer to all the world's problems. He felt that all too familiar twist in his heart, and decided that now was not the time to overthink it. "We ams comings!" shouted Skwisgaar to the Klokateer outside the door. "Tells them we ams coming!" "At once, my lord," replied the Klokateer, who left to deliver the message. He did not have to ask to know that 'we' included Toki. It always did these days.

_S: Alright, little Toki. It is time to go._

Toki rolled over on his back like a kitten and cuddled up to Skwisgaar.

_T: Oh, come on, Skwis! What's the hurry?_

Pale blue eyes locked with sapphire eyes, sparks matching sparks. Toki reached up suddenly and yanked Skwisgaar down by the arm and rolled over to straddle him. He dropped his lips to his, driving the blonde to distraction. It wasn't until after the third knock that they remembered they were supposed to be in the studio. Almost ten minutes had passed since the first knock. Toki grinned at Skwisgaar, rose from the bed, and yanked him to his feet. Skwisgaar was again surprised at the younger man's strength.

_S: Let's get this over with, bumblebee!_

_T: Don't you DARE call me that in front of the others! _

Toki and Skwisgaar headed reluctantly down the hall to join the others in the studio.

Murderface had been easy enough to find. He had not left the study at all day, drinking beer after beer from the mini-fridge. He ordered the Klokateer to have it restocked as he walked to the studio. After about ten minutes of waiting on Skwisgaar and Toki to show up, the frustration was starting to show on his face, as well as Nathan's. Pickles was the only one keeping his cool, having downed a few 'happy' pills earlier. He unearthed a joint, lit it, and handed it to Murderface. "Hey, dood, it's cool, they're coming," he said. Murderface took a long drag, coughed like a bitch, and passed it to Nathan. Nathan did the same, without coughing like a bitch, and passed it back to Pickles. Toki and Skwisgaar arrived in the studio just then. "Whoa, ams this what you ams callings us in here fors?" asked Skwisgaar. "Smokings?" "No, ya douchebag! We finished the last track for the album," answered Pickles, carefully snuffing out the joint in a nearby black glass ashtray. "C'man, let's listen!" The fact that Toki and Skwisgaar had walked in together, ten minutes late was not lost on Murderface. "Just look at them," he thought. "A couple of giggling schoolgirls." That image made him extremely uncomfortable, so he pulled out one of his almost omnipresent knives and began digging it into a nearby table. He had a habit of 'marking his territory' by stabbing the walls and the arms of chairs where he sat, so this was nothing new. Everyone ignored it, as usual. He wondered what a guy had to do to get noticed around here. "Maybe I really should kill myself and be done with it," he thought. But he knew in his deepest heart of hearts that he wouldn't go through with it. Besides, all he really wanted was to feel included. He sat in the chair, stabbing repeatedly at the table, wishing desperately that he were important to somebody… anybody. Nathan, Pickles, and Skwisgaar had gotten into a conversation about different time signatures, tempos, key signatures... something about mixolydian mode... he was lost. And there was Toki, standing off to the side of Skwisgaar, as usual, staring at him like he was some kind of wonder of the world. Murderface stabbed a little harder at the table, blood boiling. Mind and heart filled with blind fury, he leapt up, aimed the knife, and threw it across the room, lodging it in the wall. Despite his drunken state, it was such a well executed throw that his band mates never saw it coming. All conversation stopped, and all eyes flashed quickly over to Murderface. "Well, I guess that'll teach them not to ignore me," he thought smugly. Regardless of the reaction of his band mates, he would get some attention after all. "What in the hell was that for?" yelled Pickles. "YEAH, YOU COULD HAVE KILLED US!" growled Nathan. "I guess maybe somebody would have NOTICED ME THEN, HUH?" shouted Murderface. "If I killed myself, no one would even notice I was gone! But GOD FORBID anything happening to any of YOU ASSHOLES!" Everyone could see that he was drunk and on a rampage, and after the knife stunt, they were more than a little afraid of what he might do next. He pushed past them, pulled the knife out of the wall, and turned around to face them, wielding it. He pointed the tip of the blade at Toki. "You. Ever since you got here, it's Toki this, Toki that! Everything is always about you, isn't it?" Toki's eyes widened in fear and the tears began to fall. "Please don'ts hurts me," said Toki, voice quivering. With his attention on Toki, Murderface did not notice Nathan moving in behind him. This was not the first time he had to rid his old friend of a knife. He grabbed him from behind, locked his arms around his and squeezed his wrists until the knife dropped from his hands and hit the floor. Skwisgaar quickly bent to grab it, handed it to Pickles, swept Toki out of the way, and grabbed Murderface by his exposed throat and leaned in, face to face. "SKWISGAAR…" Nathan began, as Murderface choked for breath in his arms. "Justs a minutes, Natans. Holds him stills." He complied. Skwisgaar released the chokehold and he gasped for air. As he gasped, Skwisgaar socked him in the stomach, taking breath out of him that he did not have. Until that moment, he did not realize that was even possible. "If you points the knifes at Tokis agains, I wills NOT be releasings the chokings holds next times. _Jag kommer att döda dig_,"(1) he snarled. He turned from Murderface and Nathan, took a terrified Toki into his arms, murmuring placations. Nathan released his grip on Murderface, and turned him to face him and Pickles, who had disposed of the knife while Skwisgaar was dealing with him. "WHAT THE FUCK IS YOUR PROBLEM? HAVE YOU LOST YOUR MIND?" demanded Nathan. "Yah, dood, knives are cool and awesome, but I don't want one in my head, ya know?" said Pickles. "You can't be doing stuff like that, dood! Not a lot of room to duck, ya know?" He was trying to smooth it over so they could listen to the track and be done with it. There was alcohol to drink, after all. "Better hurry back to the bottle before it gets too lonely without me," Pickles thought, hit suddenly with a cold sweat. The fact that he was more concerned with the booze than he was with the knife that was just thrown at his head said something. He was too wasted to remember what it said... but it said something. "PICKLES IS RIGHT," said Nathan. "WE ARE ABOUT TO RELEASE THE GREATEST DEATH METAL ALBUM OF ALL TIME SO STOP BEING A WHINY LITTLE BITCH ABOUT EVERYTHING." "Fine! But just know, if I HAD been trying to kill you, I would've! Every single one of you!" he shouted. "Shuts UP Murderface! This ams enoughs of this stupid dildos crybabys vacations! Let's listens to the track nows so we cans gets the fucks out of heres," said Skwisgaar, who had not released Toki. Toki's face was buried in Skwisgaar's chest, his skinny arms wrapped around his waist. "Yeah, dood, let's just listen to the track, then we can go get blasted," suggested Pickles. "YEAH, FUCKING BLASTED!" added Nathan unnecessarily. Nathan finally glanced over at the Scandinavian men with their arms wrapped around each other, Toki's face hidden in Skwisgaar's shirt. "UH, WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU GUYS DOING OVER THERE?" he asked not in judgment but curiosity. "Nothings. Just, nothings. Tokis ams scared. But he ams okay nows, huh?" said Skwisgaar, nudging Toki to show his face. He lifted his head to the rest of the band, embarrassed by how frightened he became. From the moment the knife hit the wall behind their heads, he had been battling flashbacks from when his father would occasionally throw knives at him, a 'will of God' sort of situation, with Aslaug playing the role of Abraham and Toki the role of Issac. To Aslaug's thinking, if Toki survived, it was the will of God. If not, it would be his ultimate sacrifice to God, his only son. If it weren't for Skwisgaar, he would have fled the room immediately, but he could hear his heartbeat through his broad chest, and he concentrated on that rather than allowing his mind to recede into the 'punishment hole.' Toki's PTSD had him confused, lost in the past, but Skwisgaar's presence strengthened him considerably. "I ams okays," he said, unwinding himself from Skwisgaar. Pickles eyed him cautiously, but decided not to press. "Are we going to hear this track or what?" asked Murderface. Nathan silently surveyed the scene, deciding that the weird, stupid emotional whirlwind that had poured out of his band mates was over. He rolled his eyes. All these… feelings… they just grossed him out. It was time to return his attention to his truest love, music. "SO, EVERYONE'S DONE CRYING AND FREAKING OUT NOW?" he asked. Pickles chuckled. "Yah, dood, I'm pretty sure…" "OKAY, GOOD. NO ONE SPEAKS UNTIL THE SONG IS OVER. IF YOU SO MUCH AS COUGH DURING THIS PLAYBACK, I WILL RIP YOUR THROAT OUT. GOT IT?" Everyone nodded. "ALRIGHT. PICKLES, PUSH PLAY."

The first strains of the song poured from the speakers. Murderface was familiar with this arrangement. After all, he did spend several hours being bossed around by Skwisgaar as he learned his bass line, but he had not heard the other parts yet, nor had he heard the lyrics. He was shocked by what he heard.

**BLOOOOOOOOOD! BLOOD RAAAAAAAAAAIIIINN!**

**BLOOOOOOOOOD! BLOOD RAAAAAAAAAAIIIINN!**

**YOUR SOUL IS TRAPPED, AN HOURGLASS.**

**YOU SCREAM FOR AIR, THE TIME RUNS FAST.**

**THE BLOOD POURS FROM YOUR EYES TO FILL**

**THE GLASS MUCH FASTER THAN THE TIME WILL.**

**YOUR LUNGS, THEY CHOKE, FULL OF THE GRAIN,**

**WILL YOU DROWN IN TIME OR IN THE BLOOD RAIN?**

**AND ALL WILL WATCH YOUR LIPS TURN BLUE**

**AND SEE THE LIFE AS IT DRAINS OUT OF YOU**

**THEN ALL AT ONCE YOU'LL FEEL THE PAIN**

**AS YOU DROWN UNDERNEATH THE BLOOD RAIN!**(2)

As the guitar solo began, Murderface looked across the room at Nathan in surprise. Nathan held his gaze, a silent acknowledgment passing between them. In all the years they had known one another, Murderface had never heard Nathan put those lyrics, the very same lyrics that brought them together in the first place, into a song. Now here it was, and it was magnificent. It occurred to him that these were the lyrics he was trying to record when he barged into the studio earlier. He felt shame all the way to the pit of his soul. His friend had been trying to give him a gift… not in a gay way, he assured himself… and he had interrupted it, got piss your pants drunk, and threw a knife at his head. Murderface started to open his mouth to apologize, and Nathan shot him a vicious glare, reminding him of his previous threats. Besides, Murderface knew Nathan well enough to know that he wouldn't be interested in his apologies. Apologies were boring. When the song was over, Pickles popped the cork on a very expensive bottle of champagne and had a waiting Klokateer hand out flutes to everyone. They had pulled it off. They finished recording and mixing the album before their deadline. Now all they had to do was hope people would buy it.

Charles Offdensen was all too aware of what was going on in the recording studio. He had security cameras in every wing, room, nook and cranny of Mordhaus. He would never risk the safety of this band, especially now that he understood what was really at stake. The final track of the first album had finally been recorded, and it was time to unleash it upon the world. He wondered how the boys would handle the pressures of the fame that was about to sweep them up and change their lives forever. His contacts were out, so his eyes burned red with perfectly round, black pupils. They burned like fire, and there was nothing he could do to alleviate the pain. "Everything comes with a price," the voice had said, and with the promises it made, Charles endured the torture that was a precursor of what was to come for him. It was all worth it. They were going to be very rich and very powerful. They were going to become a driving force in world economics. He had seen it in dreams and lucid visions. His skin burned like it was going to melt off of his body. Then, when the song ended, Charles collapsed into a chair and fought off the dizziness and the nausea that always accompanied these…ah… situations. He had paid a hefty price indeed to become the manager of Dethklok, and signed a contract more binding than a blood oath. He considered going out to join the boys when he was feeling a little better, but he ended up staying in his quarters. He would meet with them tomorrow, congratulate them. He pulled out a two way and let his assistant know that he was not to be disturbed for the evening. There he remained, listening to the chanting of the damned, burning from the inside out.

The boys had moved out of the studio and into the hot tub in their usual arrangement, Pickles, Murderface, Nathan, Toki, and Skwisgaar, with the neck of his guitar sticking out of the water. Everyone was drinking copiously, as was their habit. Pickles was even more drunk and out of his mind that usual, having thrown all caution to the wind and openly cut and snorted lines off the side of the hot tub. Nathan glared at him each time he did, but he never commented. His band mates might stay at one another's throats, but he for one was sticking to the original plan of staying out of one another's personal lives. He passed no judgment because he couldn't care less. They were all steadily becoming drunker and drunker. Eventually, Murderface dashed out of the hot tub to go vomit on his bed and pass out face down in the mess. The mixture of beer all day, then champagne, and hard liquor all night, did him in. Skwisgaar and Toki were cuddled up together on their end of the hot tub, speaking to one another in the language only they understood. Their unusually-close-for-dudes proximity didn't really bother Nathan at the moment. Besides, with his blurry vision, Skwisgaar almost looked like a girl anyway with his long blonde hair and deep blue eyes. He glanced over at Pickles, who had just lifted his head from another line. Nathan rolled his eyes and chugged at a bottle of liquor. Pickles was out of his mind. He was on everything possible at the moment, and was freaking out. He looked at Nathan, who suddenly looked beautiful and fragile to him. He scooted over a little closer to him. It was almost like a white light shone around him. Pickles reached a hand out to touch his face, which was caught in mid-air by Nathan's quick grip. "WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING, PICKLES?" demanded Nathan. He was uncomfortable with the way Pickles had been looking at him. "Oh, sorry, dood. I am tripping balls right now. I thought you were glowing. You still look like you're glowing." "UH, MAYBE YOU SHOULD CALL IT A NIGHT," stated Nathan. "Yah, I guess you're right. I am feeling… pretty…" he started to slump dangerously low in the water and his breathing patterns were irregular. Nathan reached over and pulled him up out of the water. "Uurruunnnghhhh!" said Pickles, sputtering water out of his lungs. He had a dangerous combination running through his veins at the moment. Nathan figured as much. He grunted and threw Pickles over his shoulder. He was irritated because Charles was usually around to deal with Pickles when he got like this, but he had been AWOL the past few days. "Dood, I, aaaarrrruuuuuggggghhhhhh…" Pickle vomited down Nathan's back. He carted him into his room and tossed him down on the bed. He pulled off his soiled shirt and tossed it on the floor in Pickles' room. He'd leave it there for him to deal with. "PICKLES, WAKE UP YOU ASSHOLE. YOU PUKED DOWN MY BACK!" said Nathan. Pickles stirred, looked up at Nathan through bloodshot eyes. Nathan still looked like he was glowing. It was so pretty. Pickles reached a hand out to Nathan's face again before Nathan realized it, running slim fingers through the thick, black hair. Nathan jumped back. "WHAT THE FUCK?" he asked. What was going on with everyone tonight? Murderface was throwing knives, Skwisgaar and Toki were acting all weird, and now Pickles was trying to touch him. "Sorry. I… arrrrnnngggghhh…" his head dropped and he began snoring. Nathan rolled his eyes, pulled a small trashcan over to the bed in case Pickles woke up sick, and headed out of the room, slamming the door behind him. Pickles straight up at the sound. He dropped back down onto the bed, pulled a whiskey bottle out from under a pillow on his bed, and swilled it. Nathan was glowing. He just wanted to touch him, to feel his warmth. Pickles' life was so void of a gentle touch. Nathan was the most beautiful thing that Pickles had ever seen, man or woman. He dropped the bottle on the floor, the remaining contents splashing everywhere. The room would smell heavily of booze when he awoke. As he drifted off to sleep, he thought about how his fingers had felt in Nathan's hair, and how his eyes were like shards of chilled green glass. The contrast was breathtaking. Then he was out like a light. Nathan turned and headed in the direction of the common room, thinking of passing out facedown on the couch, as it was closer than his bedroom at the moment.

Once everyone was gone, Skwisgaar could no longer stand it. He tossed the guitar out of the hot tub, pulled Toki onto his lap, who quickly wrapped his legs around Skwisgaar's waist. Skwisgaar groaned as Toki slid his hands up his back, gripping his shoulders. He bit down on Toki's exposed neck, eliciting a moan. They became lost in each other, scent, touch, taste, sight, and sound… and therefore did not notice Nathan standing frozen in shock in the doorway a few moments later. Skwisgaar's hands were buried in Toki's quickly growing hair, pulling his in to kiss him. Nathan had walked out of Pickles room and into a nightmare. Skwisgaar and Toki were looking pretty… close. This was not friendly close, this was intimate close. Nathan blinked his eyes, tried to clear his blurry vision. Maybe he was seeing things. Nope. The pair still had not noticed him, and he was grateful for that. He fled to his bedroom. It was not the fact that it was two men, it was the fact that they were his band mates and he was genuinely surprised at the over-the-top PDA. The fact was, Skwisgaar had been silent as a stone until Toki came into the picture. Ugh, Nathan was so tired of dealing with everyone's dumb, gay feelings! Can't a man just pass out facedown on his own couch without having being bombarded with everyone and their feelings?! Safe at last behind his closed door, dropped onto his bed with the finesse of a tree crashing onto the forest floor.

Skwisgaar could not think straight. He buzzing in his head from the overindulgences earlier was louder than any coherent thought he could form. And with Toki straddling him, slowly gyrating against him, he thought he was going to blow immediately. What was it about this young brunette that drove him so crazy? Toki had ignited a passion in Skwisgaar that he did not know he was capable of experiencing for anything outside of playing guitar. Toki's damp hair smelled like wildflowers, and the scent filled Skwisgaar's brain as he buried his face in it. Toki seemingly vibrated under Skwisgaar's touch. "Mmmm…" Toki exhaled.

_T: Take me to bed, Skwis…_

The simple request snapped Skwisgaar out of his drunken distraction for the moment. They were in the hot tub… and he was planning to do all manner of things to little Toki. He had no intention of interrupting those plans.

_S: No. I will have you here, little Toki._

Toki's eyes widened. What if someone saw them?

_T: But… Skwis… what if…_

Skwisgaar interrupted Toki by capturing his lips with his own, gently persuading him. Toki's own desires took over, and he softened under Skwisgaar's lips again, pliant. The immediate surrender turned Skwisgaar on more than anything he could have imagined. Skwisgaar unwound Toki from him and rid him of his shorts with a quick, expert yank. Toki gasped. He was suddenly cognizant of the fact that he was naked in the common room… until Skwisgaar's hands found what they were looking for, and Toki let out a rather loud groan.

_S: _"S_hh, shh, min älskling(3)…_

He said as he covered Toki's mouth with one of his hands, giggling.

_S: We are going to get caught if you do not control your volume!_

He said this as he continued to move his hands up and down Toki's cock, the warm water easily lubricating the act.

_T: I told you… _(long, loud groan)…_ to take me to bed… (long, loud groan)_

Skwisgaar grinned wickedly. Toki was becoming more and more desperate for his touch, and he knew it. He removed his own shorts as Toki watched, practically salivating.

_S: As the victor, I claim my prize. You. Here. Now. _

_T: _(groan of pleasure)_ But you laughed… you were not the victor…_

_S: I am always the victor._

Toki was not inclined to argue the point at the moment. He would have laughed if it weren't for the fog of pleasure in his brain. Just then, Skwisgaar released his grip on Toki's cock and lifted him out of the tub, setting him on the edge, and replaced his hand with his mouth. Toki grabbed the back of Skwisgaar's blonde head and set the pace, surprising Skwisgaar. This was a first… he was accustomed to setting the pace, but this beautiful, brunette street kid was taking control, and the blonde man felt himself harden beneath the water. He guided his head until he reached orgasm, filling Skwisgaar's mouth, holding his head there until it was over, he let go and sunk into the hot tub, sated. Within moments, Toki found himself lifted out of the tub again, this time he was laying on his stomach, half in, half out of the water, with Skwisgaar behind him, digging his long fingers into his hips, holding him in place.

_S: Now I claim my prize…_

Skwisgaar said and he drove himself into Toki, who let out a gasp at the sudden entry. He held on to the edge of the tub while Skwisgaar set the pace this time. Being inside Toki was an unexplainable heaven. He slowed the pace to savor it. Toki was moaning… loudly… but neither gave a second thought to whether or not they would be seen or heard by anyone. As Skwisgaar guided Toki's hips, Toki ground back against him. Skwisgaar felt his eyes cross with pleasure. His skilled fingers found their way back to Toki's member, and he worked them as he worked the rest of him. Muttering Toki's name, Skwisgaar emptied himself inside Toki, who (to his own surprise), came again, simultaneously with Skwisgaar. Before Skwisgaar, Toki had never experienced and orgasm. He did not know it could happen twice in a row. Skwisgaar sank back into the tub, spent, pulling Toki back down with him. Toki wrapped his arms around Skwisgaar's neck, pulling him close.

_T: Wowee…_

_S: I told you. I am always the victor._

Toki rolled his eyes at his beautiful guitar god, but without malice.

_T: Can you take me to bed, now? I am very tired, and I can't feel my face._

Skwisgaar let out a low, dorky chuckle. Toki loved that sound. He liked to believe it was reserved for him alone.

_S: Yes, let's go to bed now, min sköna (4)_

Toki blushed, as he always did when Skwisgaar used terms of endearment. He and Skwisgaar climbed out of the tub, wrapped up in bath sheets, and made their way to Skwisgaar's room. They dropped the bath sheets on the floor and collapsed into the gigantic bed, damp, naked bodies pressed against one another, Toki's face in the crook of Skwisgaar's neck. "He fits so perfectly in my arms that it feels as though he was created to be in them," Skwisgaar though. Toki nuzzled against him again, and they fell asleep.

They slept late into the next morning, and woke up still wrapped in each other's arms. "Skwisgaar's face is so beautiful to wake up to," Toki thought, as he traced the outline of it with a fingertip. Toki had been the first to wake, so Skwisgaar woke at Toki's light touch. His thoughts mirrored those of his lover, and he locked fingers with Toki, staring into the pale, blue eyes. He felt himself harden again, and he grinned devilishly at Toki.

_S: Good morning, little Toki._

_T: We can go get some breakfast now!_

Skwisgaar chuckled.

_S: Yes, we can. But there are other things to be done first._

With a dip of his hand, Skwisgaar showed Toki exactly what needed to be done. With giddy compliance, Toki leaned into Skwisgaar's kiss, and allowed himself to be swept away.

They eventually did get up and go get breakfast, but neither of them was paying attention to the time. There were more… stimulating things to pay attention to.

The pair showered, dressed, and headed into the kitchen together in search of food. They found that their band mates had beaten them to the punch, devouring plates full of eggs, bacon, and blueberry pancakes. Everyone noticed that they arrived together, but no one said anything. Everyone was too hung over to care. Nathan had a blurry flashback of the two Scandinavians in the hot tub the night before and shook his head to clear his mind of the thought. "Yeesh …" he thought, turning his attention back to his breakfast. Nathan did not want to think about it. Pickles and Murderface were arguing, and Charles was trying to run interference between the two. "Ah, boys, I need to talk to you. Please meet me in the boardroom in 15 minutes." Charles' directive was interrupted by a chorus of groans, complaints, and excuses. "This is not an option. This is a necessity. Finish your food and meet me in the boardroom in 15," he said sternly. Charles was not in the mood for their complaints. His insides were burning, and the brown contacts were getting drier by the second. If he could handle the pain, he was sure the boys could handle attending a business meeting. He glared at them, turned around, and went to get his presentation ready. It was almost time.

When they arrived in the boardroom, Charles gestured for them to sit. It had been exactly 15 minutes on the dot, and Charles was pleased with the uncharacteristic punctuality. "Alright, boys. As you already know, the album is ready for distribution. Roy Cornickelson will be here momentarily to, ah, talk to you about it." As if on command, holograph Cornickelson appeared from the projector. "Good morning. Thank you for coming. We here at Crystal Mountain Records had very high expectations for this album, but I must say, after listening to it, I think that this album is going to exceed even the highest of our expectations. Excellent work. We are on schedule. Good luck at your show tomorrow night." As quickly as he appeared, holo-Cornickelson disappeared. "The executives are very pleased with your work, as you know. Tomorrow night, you will be performing at the Depths of Humanity. It will be Toki's first performance with Dethklok. So, ah, Toki, don't be nervous. You're going to do fine." "I knows," said Toki flippantly. He felt like he could conquer the world at the moment. "Alright, then, Toki. That's good to hear," said Charles. "Now it's time to get to work. You guys have practicing to do.

"It's really happening", thought Toki. All his dreams were coming true, even dreams he did not know he had. He found a home, friends, and was now a member of what was surely going to become the biggest death metal band in the world. He was also in love for the first time. "I wonder if this is what happiness feels like," he thought.

The members of Dethklok prepared for their first gig with Toki, their first gig without Magnus. They were ready to go forth and conquer.

NOTES:  
(1) Jag kommer att döda dig – I will fucking kill you (Swedish)

(2) Blood Rain is not a real Dethklok song. I created it for my own purposes.

(3) min älskling- My darling (Swedish)

(4) min sköna – My beautiful one (Swedish)

Chapter Six coming soon!


	6. Revenge (The Price of Fame)

Journey to Mordhaus, Chapter Six (See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Italics indicate Norwegian/Swedish

REVENGE (The Price of Fame)

The green room smelled heavily of mildew, cosmetic turpentine, spilled beer and old piss. Toki could hardly believe he was about to perform with Dethklok for the very first time. Toki examined his reflection in the blotchy mirror, admiring the expertly applied corpse paint. He decided that his makeup was almost as good as Abbath Doom Occulta's. Cool. He watched in the mirror as Pickles painted Nathan's face and Skwisgaar painted Murderface's. A smile twitched the corners of his lips at the sight of Skwisgaar, who'd had to rewash and reapply his own after Toki's disastrous attempt. His rapidly growing hair fell just to his shoulders now, and he could feel it swish when he turned to face his band mates. He decided that he would never cut it short again. The length, something forbidden by his parents, had become a symbol of his freedom. He was mulling this over, smiling to himself, when Murderface sneezed loudly, spewing snot into Skwisgaar's face. "Murderface!" Skwisgaar shouted in disgust, pushing himself away from him, wiping his face and swearing. In his haste, he pushed his chair back a little too far, and it fell out from under him. "Skwisgaar!" shouted Toki, as he leapt forward to catch him. Skwisgaar dropped into Toki's outstretched arms. (This was a very small room). As he caught him, he knocked Skwisgaar's chair forward, and it collided with Murderface's chair, knocking him to the ground instead. "Urghnghh!" said Murderface as he attempted to get back up. Nathan and Pickles had been laughing ever since Murderface sneezed into Skwisgaar's face, and now they were in hysterics. Toki had Skwisgaar in his arms like a baby, and Murderface was struggling to stand. Pickles wished that he had a video camera. "Uh, Tokis, can you puts me downs now?" he said. Toki complied. Skwisgaar straightened. It was a bit unnerving to be plucked so easily off his feet and into the arms of the second shortest member of Dethklok. Skwisgaar began cleaning his face and preparing to start all over again. Then he had a brilliant idea. Revenge. "Tokis, now you has to puts on Murderface's make-up, because I am too busy with my own." "Really, Skwis? You thinks I can dos it?" Toki said. "I don't thinks, I knows, because it ams mostly finished. You can does it!" Skwisgaar said, encouragingly, and turned to re-apply his corpse paint. Again. Toki settled down in the chair in front of Murderface and began dabbing bits of black onto the white, trying to blend the way Skwisgaar taught him. He caught a bit of his tongue in his teeth as he screwed up his face in concentration. Murderface had decided not to complain overmuch, as he possessed NO ability to apply the make-up himself. The end results were slightly less Dalmatian-esque than his first attempt, and he felt mollified by the fact that Skwisgaar would trust him to resume a job he began. Skwisgaar had to choke back a laugh when he saw Toki's handiwork. Murderface looked ridiculous. A few moments after corpse paint had been re-applied, Charles burst through the door of the green room and shut it quickly behind him. "It's a madhouse out there, boys. It's a standing-room only crowd," he said. "You go on in five." Toki picked up his battered flying v, wishing, not for the first time, that he had an instrument comparable to those of his band mates. He shook the thought out of his brain. Now was not the time for fretting over trivialities. It was showtime.

Toki stood in the wings with his bandmates, watching as the Klokateers loaded the rest of their gear in. His ears were ringing with the buzz of the amps and the screams of the crowd. He was suddenly overtaken with the same nausea he experienced the day he auditioned for Dethklok. He shoved the guitar strap around to his back and leaned forward, hands on his knees. Everything they had done had brought them to this point, and now Toki was convinced he was going to ruin everything. He felt a hand on his back, and heard a familiar voice.

_S: Toki, everything is fine. Look at me._

Toki struggled upright, swallowing back the bile in his throat. He locked eyes with Skwisgaar then, but instead of seeing the comfort his tone had conveyed, he saw steely determination. Skwisgaar put his hands on Toki's shoulders, ignoring the sweat soaked shirt, and straightened them. Toki forgot to be nervous, and looked into his eyes, drawing strength from his proximity, as usual. Skwisgaar was not going to treat him with kid gloves, and Toki was grateful for that. He readjusted his threadbare guitar strap, clutched his beloved guitar like a lifeline, and followed his bandmates onto the stage. He jumped a little at the roar from the crowd. He was not expecting there to be so many people there, in spite of what Charles had said. His hands began to shake ever so slightly, and he looked over at Skwisgaar, who was at the ready, glaring at the crowd with confident indifference. They locked eyes once again, blue meeting blue, and Skwisgaar gave a slight nod in his direction. "LADIES AND GENTLEMEN OF THE AUDIENCE, WELCOME TO YOUR DEATH!" Nathan's voice rang out through the mic, and the crowd began to scream even louder than Toki thought possible. Pickles began thrashing on the drums, Murderface laid down the bass line, Toki joined in on his mark, and Skwisgaar filled the air with his soaring melodies. Nathan began to growl, and everything clicked into place. Each band member carried their own weight, and they executed a flawless set. "WE ARE DETHKLOK. SEE YOU IN YOUR NIGHTMARES!" Nathan shouted as soon as they finished the final song, and the band exited the stage the way they came in. They were exhausted but exhilarated as they re-entered the green room. Charles stood just outside the door, trying to get a grip on the overzealous fans that were trying to break past the barriers. It was very annoying, of course, but Charles could not blame the crowd for their reaction. It was all going according to plan. The crowd was captivated, spellbound, by the dark magic that was Dethklok. His eyes burned red beneath the contact lenses. It felt like fire rather than blood ran through his veins now. The Klokateers, who had finished loading out the gear, took the job from there, holding back the fans as Charles entered the green room. Everyone was scrubbing out of the corpse paint, save Murderface, who decided to take a piss in the corner of the room, instead. "Ah, Murderface! The bathroom's right there, dood!" said Pickles more out of habit than annoyance. Murderface zipped his pants back up and flipped him off. Charles stood where he was, watching them. "Great work, boys. The gear is loaded out, so be prepared to leave in 10. And, ah, talk to the Kloks about, ah, who you, ah, what you want for after the show." Toki looked up at Charles. "Ams we goings somewheres, Charles?" asked Toki, innocently. The rest of the band erupted with laughter. "Dood, no! He means pick your groupies!" said Pickles. "Groupies?" Toki said. "Dood. Don't worry about it. I'll help ya out with that one!" Each band member, save Toki, had been watching the crowd, choosing which of the groupies they wanted to take back to Mordhaus with them. Toki was unfamiliar with this practice. Nathan, Skwisgaar, Pickles, and Murderface had already spoken with Klokateers about it. This was nothing new to them. "What the fuck do you MEAN, 'no takers'?" Murderface screamed into the face of the Klokateer. "I'm sorry, sire. They said no." "This is bullshit!" He immediately began tearing the green room apart. "William, calm down. We will sort it out when we get to Mordhaus," said Charles. Whatever it takes, Charles thought to himself. Toki gathered his guitar and prepared to leave. He was surprised when the Dethbus began to fill with women. He was even more surprised when some of them began touching him, sitting on his lap, playing with his hair. What the hell was going on? Each band member had a bevy of women crawling on them, and to his shock, Skwisgaar had the largest group. Toki had never seen Skwisgaar like this before, surrounded by women, absorbed by them. Confusion and envy sliced through him like a knife, and he stood, pushing groupies off of him as he ran to the bathroom, the only room with a door that locked. Women banged on the door, trying to coax him out, but he was having none of it. He began to vomit copiously. Why was his guitar god letting all these women touch him? Who were these women, anyway? What the flying fuck was going on? When the retching finally stopped, he splashed water on his face, and the groupies continued to claw at the bathroom door, trying to get a piece of him. Toki sat on the floor and began to cry. All he could see was Skwisgaar with those women, straddling him, kissing him… the very thought had him retching again, though there was nothing left for his stomach to expel. He felt the bus lurch to a stop, and continued to hide in the bathroom until the scratching on the door stopped. He waited until he thought it was safe, and slowly pushed the door open. "Sire, are you ill?" asked the Klokateer who had been on standby. It was the nurse who had cared for him during his first days at Mordhaus. "No. Ams they gones?" Toki asked. "Yes, sire. They are all in Mordhaus now." Toki looked at the Klokateer with panic. "Oh nos, they ams in the house?" The Klokateer had to suppress the urge to chuckle. She knew what was going on, all right. She had seen Toki and Skwisgaar together, and put two and two together when Toki ran and hid from the groupies. "I will guide you in, my lord," she said kindly. She stood a good five inches taller than him, and was very muscular from lifting weights and loading and unloading gear. "Okays." Toki came out of the bathroom and let the Klokateer lead him out, who knocked groupies out of their path like flies. "Where do you wish to go, my lord?" she asked. "To my rooms, please," he said. In the upheaval, he forgot to be bossy to his subordinate. Once they got to his room, he rectified that. "Brings to me somethings to drinks, now. Somethings strong," he ordered. "Yes, sire."

Pickles had noticed the look on Toki's face when Skwisgaar's groupies descended upon him. Why didn't he think to warn Toki about that? It was just so routine to him that it never crossed his mind. Drunk, blazed, and blasted, he pushed his way into Toki's room with five women with the intention of sharing the wealth. "GETS. THEM. OUT. OF. HERES." Toki said with clear disgust. "Sorry, dood… c'man, ladies, you heard him…" Pickles herded the women out of Toki's room. "DO NOT EVER BRINGS THEMS IN HERES AGAINS!" Toki screamed at Pickles, who quickly backed out of the room. "Okay, okay, dood. We're going…" he turned and fled the room.

Toki nursed a bottle of booze, then another, and then another. Finally, he felt brave enough to come out of his room. He walked down the hall toward Skwisgaar's room, a place where he always found sanctuary, and noticed that the door was wide open. He started to enter the room when the sounds and scents of sex overwhelmed him. It was practically an orgy in there. Skwisgaar lay on his back as women crawled all over him. Toki heard the all too familiar sound of Skwisgaar coming into the mouth of a random skank. Everyone in the room was naked. Toki gaped in horror, and just then, he locked eyes with the man he loved. Skwisgaar was higher than a kite, drunk out of his mind, and hopped up on MDMA.

_S: Little Toki, why are you in the doorway? Come in and party with us!"_

Skwisgaar had no idea what he had just done.

_T: You are to NEVER refer to me in that way again. You DISGUST ME!_

He turned around and fled the room. Skwisgaar, in his haze, looked down at a groupie with long brown hair who was squirming on his lap. She almost looks like Toki, he thought, but not as beautiful. His libido and poor impulse control kicked in moments later, and she could be heard yelling Skwisgaaar's name all throughout Mordhaus as he fucked away the fear that had begun creeping into his heart after what Toki said, and the implications thereof, began to sink in.

Toki felt like his heart had been broken in half. This betrayal by the first person he ever allowed himself to trust hurt worse than any psychological, or even physical, pain he ever endured. By force of will, in a habit he acquired over the years as a defense mechanism, he went completely numb from the inside out. It was the only way to shield from the pain. He knew that it was only a matter of time before the black fury overtook him. He leaned against the wall, allowing the fire to run through his veins, energizing him. He started to head to his bedroom to slam his door and start breaking things, but he decided to take a page out of the book of his betrayer. He stomped into the kitchen to get his hands on some more booze, or some drugs, or whatever the fuck that he could possibly shove down his throat so he could cease to feel entirely, at least for the moment, because he was sure that the devastation would crush him. He reached down for an open liquor bottle, picked it up, and took a very deep sip. He began to choke and sputter. "Dood! That's Absinthe!" slurred Pickles in an amused voice. He had his arms around two groupies in various states of undress, and he studied Toki through bleary, bloodshot eyes. Once he'd stopped coughing, Toki glared at Pickles and took another slug out of the bottle, a glutton for punishment. Pickles saw the black fury that was ready to erupt in Toki's eyes, and he immediately grew concerned. Instead of pushing one of the groupies toward Toki, this time, he told the girls to get lost. They pouted. "WHY DON'T YOU SKANKSIES GOILS GOS TO SKWISGAAR'S ROOMS? IT AMS RIGHTS DOWN THE HALLS. HES WILLS FUCKS ANYTHINGS!" Toki screamed at them. They were gone in a blink. Pickles cautiously approached Toki, who was breathing heavily. Violence was flashing in those pale blue eyes, and God help him, it nearly brought Pickles to his knees with desire. He spent so much time looking into those eyes and seeing nothing but light, but now there was a deep, tormented darkness swirling in them like storms. As usual, the younger man vibrated with energy like a plucked string, but this time, the energy was so different. It was dangerous. What Pickles wouldn't give to be the one under those hands… He snapped out of his reverie when Toki made his way over to him and stopped just within arms' reach. "Pickle... those womens… and Skwisgaar was…" Toki choked on the words, taking another chug from the bottle, each time keeping a little more down than the time before. Pickles was impressed with his determination to off that bottle. "Dood, let me have that bottle," he said. "FUCKS YOU!" screamed Toki, taking a step back. He was not going to let Pickles take the bottle from him. If he wanted to get blind drunk, he was going to do it, and no one was going to stop him. Pickles fished a bag of brightly colored pills from his pocket. Toki thought they looked like candy. Pickles shook a couple into his hand, and offered one to Toki, who eyed it cautiously. "What ams that?" he asked. "Dood. Just take it. It'll calm ya down. Just a little X," Pickles said. Pickles was beyond blasted, and the only way he could think to help Toki at the moment was to get him to the state he was in. Toki snatched the pill out of Pickles' hand, tossed it back, and held out his hand for another. "Whoa, don't get carried away, there…" "GIVES TO ME THE OTHERS ONE!" shouted Toki. Pickles tossed it into his own mouth before Toki could get it from him. "You sonofa…." Toki began, and he stepped forward, pressed his body into Pickles', forcing his mouth open with his tongue, and sliding the pill out of his mouth and into his own. Pickles stared at Toki, slack-jawed, bright green meeting flashing pale blue. He was convinced the gorgeous brunette had lost it. "Pickle, I don't wants to feel right now," he confessed in a soft, sad voice, in direct contrast to the deadly fury he felt. "Well, don'tcha worry, dood… with what you just took, you will feel nothing but very… good… in a few minutes…" What the hell, Pickles decided, and pulled out a couple more and popped them into his mouth. He wanted to go on this ride with Toki. He was not sure where it would take them, or what the consequences would be, but he decided he did not care. Toki just does not know how incredibly beautiful that he is, Pickles mused, not for the first time. Toki was swaying a bit, holding himself upright by planting a hand on the giant saw blade table. His eyes shone with tears, his bottom lip trembled just a little bit. Pickles took a chance and stepped toward him, holding out his arms. Toki collapsed gratefully into them, spilling a little of his alcohol down the back of Pickles' shirt. Pickles expertly grabbed the bottle from behind his back with one hand. Toki began feeling a bit disoriented. Pickles put the bottle back on the table without letting go of Toki. "Dood, it's okay." What was okay, Toki wondered. Everything seemed okay to him at the moment. The storms were still present in his eyes, but he was beginning to calm down. "Thanks you, Pickle," he said. "Your backs ams sticky," he commented, clumsily running his hands down Pickles' back. Pickles almost purred. "Yeah, you spilled Absinthe down my back, remember?" "Absehntses?" said Toki. Pickles laughed. He absently ran his fingers through Toki's hair, stroked his cheek with his fingers. Toki froze under the gentle touch, and Pickles pulled him closer. "Dood, ya gotta try not to let Skwisgaar's groupies get to ya like that. They come and then they go," he said, chuckling at his own stupid pun. Tears began to roll down Toki's cheeks at the memory. "Hey, hey, none of that now," Pickles said, "he's a douchebag and you can't waste your tears on him. You know, I was with him once." Toki looked at Pickles with shock. "With Skwisgaar? You was with Skwisgaar, toos?" The anger began to grow again. What else had Skwisgaar been hiding from him? "Ya, and according to him, it never even happened," Pickles said with a sneer. He was getting sick of being everyone's dirty little secret. It was time to give that blonde haired bastard a taste of his own medicine. He examined Toki, who had grabbed the liquor bottle again and began drinking after Pickles' confession. The air around Toki seemed to shimmer like gold dust, illuminating those light blue eyes. Pickles moved in, recalling again how Toki lit up when he got close, hoping it would happen again. It did. Toki set down the bottle and studied Pickles, who just kept getting closer and closer. Finally, Pickles took Toki's hands in his own and said, "So, ya wanna drink some more, or do ya want to get revenge?" There was hope in Pickles' bright green eyes, and the promise of a diversion. Pickles had been the kindest to Toki, outside of Skwisgaar, since he joined the band. Toki bit his bottom lip a moment, considered, and made a snap decision. He pulled his hands from Pickles', grabbed the bottle off the table, and offered it to the redhead. "I cans do both, yes?" Toki said. "Fack yes, you can!" Pickles whooped, and after draining the bottle of its contents, he tossed it behind his shoulder where it crashed on the kitchen floor for some poor Klokateer to clean up. Nothing mattered to him but Toki at that point. He was going to give the kid the ride of his life. Maybe it would finally snap Toki out of Skwisgaar's spell. As the bottle crashed, Toki pulled Pickles into his arms and kissed him ravenously. Pickles could hardly keep track of all the sensations that were flooding his brain. Toki smelled like a liquor soaked meadow… how that was even possible was a mystery to the redhead… he tastes as good as he smells, Pickles thought, running his hands down the younger man's torso, trying to unzip his jeans. "Not heres!" Toki giggled. "We gots to go somewhere…" "Oh, c'maaaaan…" Pickles whined. He felt like he had just been given the key to paradise and he was ready to unlock it. "A… rooms?" said Toki. Pickles grabbed Toki by the hand and dragged him off to his room, letting the door slam behind him. He rolled onto his bed with Toki, wrestling with his clothes. Pickles found Toki with his hand, and Toki let out a low moan. Toki knew there was something he was forgetting, but there was a fog in his brain. Pickles ran his hands all over Toki's body, then stopped when he felt the first of the scars on his back. What in the world had happened to Toki? Toki was still floating on cloud nine. That's what he forgot… to be ashamed of his scars! "Pickle," he began, "I hads a bad childhoods…" "So did I," Pickles revealed. Rather than reacting with shock, horror, or sympathy, Pickles just acknowledged it, shelved the curiosity for the moment, and went back to what he was doing. Toki let out a sigh of relief. "We all have scars, Toki." At that, Toki dropped his head into Pickles' lap… and Pickles' eyes rolled into the back of his head with pleasure. "Oh, gahd, Toki…" Pickles shuddered until he came. Toki stood up, flipped Pickles over unceremoniously, and began working him open with his fingers and a small bottle of lube he found on the floor. "Oh my GAHD… TOKI…" Pickles sighed. There was nothing that turned him on faster than being overtaken sexually. Toki filled him, slowly at first, then gained momentum. Pickles had no idea that this was Toki's first time on top, as he was very good at it. Once Toki finished, he collapsed on top of Pickles, who was not in a hurry to push him off. The world was spinning before his eyes. He finally had Toki… or, more correctly, Toki finally had him… and it was even sweeter than Pickles could've imagined. After a few moments, Toki rolled off Pickles and onto the bed. He couldn't look his band mate in the eye. The only way he was able to finish was by pretending it was Skwisgaar underneath him. He had exacted his revenge all right, but what was the fallout going to be? Pickles was amazing, they always had a great time together, and they had great chemistry. So why couldn't he stop thinking about that skank-loving son of a bitch? Pickles was no fool, he saw exactly what was in Toki's eyes. He turned to face him and grinned in his face. "Dood, look, it's not going to get all weird now, I promise," Pickles said, comfortingly, though it cost him. He realized the moment he saw the conflict in Toki's eyes in the aftermath that he was going to be another 'dirty little secret'. But Pickles knew what he was risking. He knew what was going on between Toki and Skwisgaar, and he'd used Toki in a similar way, to exact his own revenge against Skwisgaar. He wouldn't be able to hold a grudge against Toki, anyway. Besides, Toki was really, really good in bed, and there was always a chance that he could get Toki back in his bed another time. Pickles let out an exaggerated yawn. "Ahhhh… I'm sorry, Toki… I might pass out on ya…" he said, giving Toki an opportunity to leave… but secretly wishing he would stay. "Alrights, Pickle. Goodnights," he said gratefully, pulling his jeans back on and rushing out of the room.

After the door shut behind Toki, Pickles lay in his bed, staring at the ceiling. He flopped over, opened his nightstand, and cut a few lines. Toki was not the only one trying to escape the pain tonight.

Toki headed to his bedroom, praying with a fervor that he had not experienced since childhood that Skwisgaar's door would be closed. It was. He hated himself for what he had just done. He hated Skwisgaar for betraying him and then suggesting that he join in on the 'party'. He was so confused. What had he done? Deady bear was propped up between his pillows. He crawled into him bed, held deady close, and closed his eyes, praying for sleep and oblivion.

When morning came, as it inevitably does, so did the misery. Every single member of Dethklok had overindulged on booze or women or both. No one wanted to come out of their rooms, but they had a meeting with Cornickelson that afternoon, so Charles dispatched the Klokateers to drag the boys to the board room. Once everyone was there, he did not even stop to assess the situation. He already knew what was going on. For the first time since joining the band, Toki did not take his usual seat by Skwisgaar, opting instead to sit next to Pickles. Upon waking, Skwisgaar thought back to the night before, what had happened with the groupies, what Toki had seen… he was disgusted with himself, too. There had never been a reason for him to hold back when it came to the groupies, so he never considered what affect it might have on Toki to see him like that. He looked down at his guitar and played through his scales. Skwisgaar was deeply ashamed, and did not even know how to begin to explain to Toki that those women meant nothing to him, it was a course of habit that they were there in the first place. He had a life before Toki joined the band, he reminded himself. But now he had driven the only light he'd ever had in his life right back out. Pickles smiled at Toki, tried to make conversation, but Toki was silent as a stone, his face unreadable. Nathan was vomiting into a trashcan and Murderface was pissing in the corner of the room. Of all the members, Murderface had fared the best the night before, taking in a few of the (very) drunk groupies that Toki dismissed, and even managed to net the two that Pickles had sent away. Hangover aside, it was a good day for him so far. Charles summoned a Klokateer to clean up after Murderface, and another to bring in black coffee for everyone. "Boys, I would like to have your attention for a moment. William, please take a seat." Murderface was a little surprised to see that Toki had taken the seat beside Pickles. He looked back and forth between Toki and Skwisgaar for a moment. Lover's quarrel, Murderface thought to himself, and took Toki's usual seat beside Skwisgaar, who still had yet to look up from his guitar. "First, I want to congratulate you on an outstanding performance," started Charles. It was difficult for him to speak at all, due to the burning agony, but fortunately for him, he had his monotone down to a science. For once, Pickles was not staring at him with hearts in his eyes, and Charles decided that it was for the best. The voices in his head bade him to continue, though it did hurt him to see that the red dreaded drummer did not seem to be pining after him at the moment. "The Label has gone all out on promotion. The record officially drops this coming Tuesday, and tour begins Wednesday. Of course, there are many other things that must be attended to, such as, ah, album signings, promotional events, et cetera." Now he had their attention. "WAIT, SO YOU'RE SAYING THAT THE TOUR STARTS IN…" Nathan began, counting on his fingers, "THREE DAYS?" "Yes, Nathan. All the arrangements have been made. Our first stop will be in California." The doors to the boardroom swung open, and in Roy Cornickelson strode into the room, smiling like the sun. He walked up to Charles and patted him hard on the back. "Excellent work, Charles! Good luck on your upcoming tour. Now, there are a few housekeeping issues that I would like to address…" he began. The members of Dethklok sighed simultaneously. This was going to be a long meeting.

After Cornickelson left, Charles dismissed the band for a late lunch break before their next rehearsal, but asked Skwisgaar to hold back so he could have a word with him. "Skwisgaar, ah, I wanted check on you, see how you are doing," Charles began. Skwisgaar looked miserable. He knew what was going on, of course, but Skwisgaar did not know that, so he had to address the situation as though he did not have the information. Charles prided himself on always having the upper hand. As Skwisgaar had been spending all his time with Toki, Charles did not feel threatened by the fact that the guitarist not only knew about his time with Pickles, but had used it as leverage against the drummer, but now it was time to address the situation. "Oh, ja, everything ams wonderfuls," Skwisgaar answered without looking Charles in the eyes. "Let's not waste our time with lies and placations, Skwisgaar," Charles said in a tone that had Skwisgaar raising his face to make eye contact with his manager. "I overheard your, ah, conversation with Pickles outside of the recording studio that day. I just thought you should know." Skwisgaar's eyebrows shot up. He was sure that no one had overheard them. "You are the most talented guitarist the world has ever known, Skwisgaar. I would hate to have to replace you. It would be a waste, and this band needs you," said Charles. "Ams thats a threats?" seethed Skwisgaar. "No, simply an observation. No harm, no foul. Just keep your mouth shut, and everything will be fine. Now, go join the rest of the boys. As you well know, we have a lot of work to do before we head out on Wednesday." Skwisgaar stood there, frozen in place, staring, blue eyes flashing. Charles simply stared at him through his wire-rimmed glasses. "You are dismissed, Skwisgaar. And we will not speak of this again unless you are prepared to capitulate your position in Dethklok," said Charles. He was bluffing, of course. The prophecy would not come to fruition without the veteran blonde guitarist, but he did not know that. Rather than argue the point, Skwisgaar turned and left the room. Once the doors shut behind him, Charles placed his hands on the table of the boardroom in an attempt to steady himself. He had to keep it together. Everything was playing out exactly as it had to, regardless of the physical and emotional pain he was enduring. He had sold his soul to guarantee the success of this band and to secure his position as the mentor and caretaker of Dethklok with full disclosure about what he would endure as they rose to the top. He had behaved recklessly when he indulged in a short lived fling with Pickles, and now he was suffering the consequences of his actions. Now that Skwisgaar had been put firmly in his place, Charles had one less thing to worry about. He was ready to overcome his next obstacle.

The kitchen was much quieter than usual, which suited Nathan just fine. He shoveled food into his mouth at an unnecessarily rapid pace. Now that the hangover was abating, he was starving. The rest of his band mates sat at the giant saw blade table, either eating or picking at their food. Toki sat between Nathan and Pickles as he pushed food around on his plate. Murderface sat on the other side of Pickles next to Skwisgaar, who was also not eating. Pickles resumed eating when his attempt at making conversation failed. Leave it to Murderface to be the one to address the elephant in the room. "Dudes, we are about to go on a world tour! Our album is about to drop! What's with all the long faces?" he asked. Personally, Murderface was on top of the world. When no one responded, he said, "What the fuck is going on with you guys?" Nathan grunted at him through a mouthful of food. "NOTHING," he said after swallowing, then returned his attention to his plate, hoping like hell that he would not have to deal with anyone's feelings. Pickles, Toki, and Skwisgaar remained silent. "If you want to sit around and be sad on what is supposed to be a fucking awesome day, that's your business, I guess," he lisped. "WOULDS YOU JUST SHUTTINGS THE FUCKS UP?" shouted Toki, surprising everyone. "I DON'TS WANTS TO HEARS YOURS STUPIDS VOICE ANYMORE!" "Well, well, look who finally decides to speak up," said Murderface, pleased he had gotten a genuine rise out of someone. He lived for attention, any kind, positive or negative. It validated him. "What's wrong, Toki? Still upset about the groupies, eh? I should've figured you would be gay. When we go on the road, we'll make sure the tour manager finds some groupies that would be more to your taste," he said. "FUCKS OFF! I'LL KILL YOU!" screamed Toki as he lunged across the table. Pickles caught him just before he was able to do any damage. Toki was shaking with rage. He shoved Pickles off of him and stomped out of the room, seeking solace so that the tears could fall without humiliating him further.

Skwisgaar had been quietly seething since he noticed Toki take the chair next to Pickles in the boardroom, and the seething had rolled into a full boil after Murderface chased Toki out of the room. Skwisgaar smashed his guitar directly into Murderface's crotch, who began to howl. "Ones of these days, Murderfaces, yous will learns to shuts up." He rose and left the kitchen before Murderface had the chance to retaliate. He ignored the screaming from the kitchen as he went after Toki. His memory was a little blurry, but he knew he had fucked up really badly, and he was not sure how to make it right. Sex was always so easy for him, but the only time it meant anything was when it was with Toki. Skwisgaar's reputation as a Lothario had not reached Toki yet, and since it had always been a part of his life, he had not thought to restrain himself or explain to Toki what it all meant. Hell, he wasn't even sure that HE knew what it all meant. Besides, Toki was the first person he shared true intimacy with, and now he'd fucked it all up. His fingers flew across the strings furiously as he went to look for Toki. He almost jumped clear through the roof when a hand dropped on his shoulder. "Tokis, I…" he began, and swallowed his words when he turned and saw Pickles standing there, guilt in his bright green eyes. "Skwisgaar, look, last night was a very crazy night, and there's something I need to tell ya." He could still hear the faint howls from the kitchen where Skwisgaar had smashed Murderface's balls with his guitar. "Whats?" asked Skwisgaar. "I'm busy." "Well, ya see, I ran into Toki after he left your room. He was in a bad, bad place in his mind. He was chugging Absinthe like water. We ended up drinking and doing X and…" Pickles could not finish his sentence. Skwisgaar gently set his guitar on the nearest flat surface and got in Pickles' face, murder flashing in his blue eyes. "And what?" he asked venomously. "Well, one thing led to another, and, I'm sorry, dood… it just… happened." The instant the final word dropped out of Pickles' mouth, Skwisgaar grabbed him by the throat and pinned him up against the wall. "You… you and Tokis? WE HADS AN AGREESMENT!" "Well," gasped Pickles, as he struggled for air, "he was alone, and sad, and we were both really messed up, and…" "SHUTS THE FUCKS UP PICKLE!" He released the man's throat and Pickles dropped to the floor. There would definitely be bruises around his neck, he thought, but since he started this, he had to finish it. "Dood, listen to me," he said, voice raspy, "I know what I did was wrong, but you have to accept your own responsibility in this." Skwisgaar's face lit up with rage and he started to go after Pickles again, when another hand dropped on his shoulder. He whirled around with murder in his eyes, and saw that it was Toki. The only person he had ever truly loved. And those light blue eyes shone with heartbreak, betrayal, and guilt. Skwisgaar crumbled immediately. "Toki…" he whispered. Toki walked past him and helped Pickles stand up. "This ams not his faults, Skwisgaar. If you wants to fights abouts it, then your fights ams with me, not hims. Pickle, leaves us alone," Toki said. "Dood, are ya sure…" "LEAVES US ALONE, PICKLE. I WILLS NOT SAYS IT AGAINS!" Pickles lifted his hand to his red ringed throat, let out a jagged breath, and backed out of the room, granting Toki's request. He had done enough damage as it was.

As soon as they were alone, Skwisgaar searched Toki's eyes, hoping to find mercy there. "Tokis…" he began again, and was cut off with a firm slap across his face. Toki had learned from the best, after all.

_T: Do not speak yet. Let us find a place to speak alone._

Skwisgaar's heart rate leveled when Toki began speaking in their mishmashed language. To him, it was a sign that all was not lost. He led Toki into an unoccupied sitting room, and shut the door behind them. It was the room where the band historically conducted their interviews. Toki took a seat across the table from Skwisgaar, and looked at him caustically.

_T: Now you may speak. What do you have to say for yourself?_

Skwisgaar was not accustomed to being spoken to in this manner. Toki looked at him with a carefully blank expression and waited.

_S: Toki, I am so sorry for the way that I acted last night. I should have told you… It's just… I never…_

He could not proceed from there. There was no justification for his actions.

_T: What should you have told me, Skwisgaar? That you will fuck anything that moves?_

Skwisgaar's head dropped in shame for a moment, then snapped back up, his pride beginning to get the better of him.

_S: And you are one to talk! Out of anyone else, Pickle?_

_T: Yes. Pickle. He was there for me while you were contracting a menagerie of sexually transmitted diseases. He also let me know that the two of you had a past. Were you not going to tell me?_

_S:_ (admonished) _No, I was not telling anyone. It happened in another life, before Dethklok, before you…_

_T: And that makes it all better then, right? To lie by omission?_

_S: No, it does not. Will you grant me the opportunity to explain myself, Min kärlek (1)?_

_T: DO NOT CALL ME THAT. Your actions do not give you the right to call me that._

_S: Fine. Have it your way. I am almost ten years your senior. I have lived this way for as long as I can remember. My childhood was not pleasant. My mother was and is a whore, and she would sell her body to men and women alike, and sometimes, she would sell my body, too. Sex became a survival mechanism and eventually, a compulsive habit._

Toki's mask slipped. This was not what he was expecting to hear. Skwisgaar had dropped his face into his hands, humiliated. He was baring his soul to Toki. He had nothing left to lose. Toki crossed the room and took a seat on the couch next to Skwisgaar, and put an arm across his shoulders.

_T: Do you mean to tell me that you have been sexually abused, Skwis?_

Without lifting his face from his hands, he nodded his head.

_T: And you would not lie to me? Remember on the first day we met, you promised me that you would never lie to me._

_S: Toki, I have not, nor would I ever, lie to you. I might be a disgusting whore and a bastard, but I am not a liar._

Toki lifted Skwisgaar's face to meet his own. He wiped the tears off the blonde guitarist's cheeks. Skwisgaar had never spoken of the sexual abuse to anyone.

_S: Toki, I cannot promise you that I will not take in groupies. I am sorry. I will not lie to you about that._

Toki removed his arm quickly from around Skwisgaar's shoulders. That was not what he wanted to hear. But he was not angry, because at least Skwisgaar was being honest. That's all that Toki could ask of him.

_T: I do not want to ask you to become something that you are not._

Skwisgaar looked at Toki. It was now or never.

_S: Please, I need to say this to you before my pride stops me. There is no one in the world that means more to me than you do, Toki. It scares me. Perhaps my sexuality is strange, but I do not know how to control it. But this I can promise you. There will never be anyone in my heart but you, whether or believe me or not. Will you ever forgive me?_

Blue eyes locked again, one pair pleading, the other considering. When Toki spoke, he took Skwisgaar's cold hands into his own.

_T: Skwis, I have no choice but to forgive you. I love you._

The shock on Skwisgaar's face was almost laughable. When it melted away, hope took its place.

_S: You love me? Even though I am a sex crazed maniac who caused you pain?_

_T:_ (chuckling): _You are not the only one I love who has caused me pain, but I cannot help but forgive you. And when I forgive, I forgive with my whole heart. Unfortunately for me, my whole heart belongs to you, no matter what. I will always belong to you, Min kjærlighet (2)_

_S: I love you, too, more than life itself. Min kärlek(1), min enda kärlek(3), how is it that this has happened?_

Toki shrugged.

_T: I accept you for who and what you are. I will ask that you have enough respect to not try to drag me into any more of your orgies._

_S: Of course not. I am so sorry for what I am and for what I have put you through. I knew that I was only going to hurt you in the end, but now that I have known you, I cannot live without you._

_T: Please, do not apologize for what you are. I would appreciate it if you did not surprise me in this manner again._

Toki looked into Skwisgaar's relieved face and suppressed his sorrow. It hurt to know that Skwisgaar would not give up his groupies for him, but Toki's heart had made it's choice, whether or not it was for the best. Toki took his face in his hands and kissed him very gently. Skwisgaar began to weep. He was a damaged, broken man, and he did not know how to control his promiscuity. It had always been a part of his life, even before he discovered the guitar. The guitar had been his escape.

_T: No matter what happens in the future, I will always be by your side. I belong to you._

_S: And I belong to you. I will never belong to another. If you come into the room, I will dismiss any and all of the women if you ask me to. That is a promise, my Toki._

_T:_ (shocked) _Really? All I have to do is ask?_

_S: Yes. If you ask, I will dismiss them._

_T: Wowee…_

_S: So now, my Toki, you know all my secrets. When we are not working, you may call on me at any time and I will be at your side._

_T: You had better mean that._

_S: If you believe what I tell you, then you know I mean that._

Toki held out his pinky finger and locked it with Skwisgaar's, meeting his eyes.

_S: What is this, a pinky swear?_

_T: Yes. A pinky swear. Pinky swear to me that you meant what you said, that I can call on you, and I will believe you._

Skwisgaar did as he was asked, as childish as it seemed. But if Toki could accept him as a sex crazed nymphomaniac, he could certainly accept Toki's childish mannerisms.

_S: There, my darling. A pinky swear. The most binding of oaths._

Skwisgaar had to choke back the laughter and the tears that were trying to burst out of him simultaneously. The situation was so ridiculous, and so perfect. It still hurt him to think that someone else (PICKLES…) had been with Toki, but he had no right to judge him. Toki was entitled to his revenge. Toki was entitled to the world. Skwisgaar had never met anyone as trusting and accepting as Toki. He was so relieved that the light had not fled his life for good. Toki was the only joy, the only sweetness, that existed in his world.

_T: So, when may I start calling on you?_

Toki grinned wickedly. Skwisgaar returned the grin.

_S: Whenever you want, Min kärlek. (1)_

_T: Then I call on you. Here. Now._

Toki's did not ask, he commanded.

_S: What do you want from me?_

_T: Drop to your knees, immediately._

Skwisgaar dropped to his knees so fast that he was worried he might have broken something. Toki undid his pants and let them drop around his ankles.

_T: Open your mouth._

He did, and Toki shoved himself inside of his waiting mouth. Skwisgaar began to move his head back and forth, and Toki placed an hand on top of it, setting the pace. Right as he was about to come, he stopped Skwisgaar.

_T: Stand and drop your pants._

He complied. He thought he knew what was coming next, but he was wrong. Toki shoved him over onto his stomach over the arm of the chair and began working him open with his mouth and fingers. Skwisgaar moaned beneath him.

_T: Are you ready? This will not be gentle._

Before he could answer, Toki filled Skwisgaar, who let out a gasp at the shock of being entered. Toki grabbed his hips and set a rhythm. The tables had finally turned, and Toki had the upper hand. (Not that Skwisgaar was complaining.) Toki found Skwisgaar with his hand, and rocked him until he erupted. He let out a long, low moan as he spilled into the older man. After Toki pulled out, Skwisgaar flipped over and pulled Toki on top of him, gyrating underneath him.

_S: Now may I?_

_T: You had better!_

From underneath, him, Skwisgaar slowly slid inside of Toki, much gentler than Toki had been with him. Toki gripped the arm of the couch with both hands as Skwisgaar bounced him up and down. Skwisgaar drove in and out of Toki until they were both on the brink, and Skwisgaar finally slipped off the edge and into ecstasy.

Charles had been watching the fighting and the make up session through the surveillance cameras. He did not understand their verbal language, but their body language was clear. He allowed himself to feel a brief moment of relief, then dispatched a Klokateer to summon them to the rehearsal area. He felt sure that Skwisgaar was going to keep his mouth shut, after all. As long as he had Toki, Charles thought, Skwisgaar would be easy to manage. Comfortable now that the cards were all back in his hands again, he felt the heat began to ebb from his eyes, from his veins. It would return, of course, if he were to step outside the boundaries of professionalism again with his boys. The ancient ones had been very clear in their directive. He began making his way to the rehearsal area, beating the boys there by five minutes.

Skwisgaar and Pickles had been ignoring one another all throughout practice. Pickles neck sported choke marks from Skwisgaar's hands, and they had become inflamed. The nurse who was caring for him instructed him to speak as little as possible. When practice ended, Skwisgaar and Toki went to Pickles. "Nows, befores you says anythings," Toki began, "Skwisgaar has somethings to says to yous." "Pickle, I ams sorrys for what I did to yous. We ams both sorrys," Skwisgaar said, adding the 'we ams both sorrys' more for the sake of his pride than anything else. Toki shot him a warning look. "I means, I ams sorrys, Pickle." Pickles looked at the men with surprise. Toki had taken on a more domineering tone, and Skwisgaar seemed compliant. Now THAT was new, Pickles thought. Since he was not supposed to talk, instead, he held a hand out to Skwisgaar to shake to accept his apology. "Skwisgaar, ams that alls you has to says?" asked Toki with a pointed look on his face. "Nopes. Pickle, I wills not does anythings like thats to yous again… unless I has to… well, I will trys not to do anythings like that's to yous again." Toki smiled at him like a he was a pupil who gave the correct answer. "We hopes you acceptings our apologies, Pickle. I apologies, too," said Toki. Pickles looked at Toki with a bit of sadness in his eyes. He accepted Toki's handshake with a little regret. Somehow, Toki and Skwisgaar had managed to make up. Revenge had not destroyed them. Pickles was just relieved that the band had not blown to pieces over all of this. Charles had spoken with him earlier, after the choking incident, while the Klok nurse was tending to him. Charles had explained that the sexual part of their relationship was over, and they were never to speak of it again. Pickles was pretty pissed off that he had been robbed of his ability to argue back, as his windpipe had very nearly been broken, and he was hurt that he had been rejected once and for all by Charles. Now, as Toki stood on his tiptoes to kiss Skiwsgaar on the tip of his nose, Pickles was trying not to let the fact that he had been rejected twice get to him. But he knew what he was getting with Toki. Toki was the Garden of Eden, and Pickles had been banished. But in another way, it was like being set free. He put a companionable arm around Toki and Skwisgaar's shoulders, and they left the rehearsal space together, both men holding Pickles up, guiding him out to the common room. It always cost him, each time he was rejected, but somehow, the solidarity with his bandmates gave him a measure of comfort. And besides, he thought, it was not like there wouldn't be thousands of groupies who were willing to throw themselves on their backs for him. In it's own fucked up way, Dethklok was becoming a unit, a family.

"And THAT'S why I decided to name my side band 'Planet Piss', just in case those dildos fuck up Dethklok!" declared Murderface. "PLANET PISS? A PLANET MADE OF PISS?" asked Nathan. "No! I mean… ah… nevermind…" he said as they both watched Toki and Skwisgaar help Pickles into the hot tub. "UHHHH… IS EVERYTHING OKAY WITH YOU GUYS NOW?" asked Nathan. He didn't really want to ask, but he felt that it was the right thing to do. "Yeps. Everything ams okays now," said Toki as he settled into the hot tub beside Skwisgaar. Skwisgaar and Pickles nodded in unison. "UHHHH… OKAY. GOOD. I'M FUCKING STARVING, LET'S EAT NOW," said Nathan with obvious relief in his voice. Murderface began shouting orders at the Klokateers, who had already begun to bring food and drinks to the band. The giant TV screen lowered from the ceiling on it's hooks and chains, and Charles appeared in the doorway. "Good, you're all here. Please direct your attention to the television screen," he said, as a Klokateer turned the TV on. A news jingle poured out of the speakers, and Murderface started to complain, but was hushed by a lethal glance from Charles. A blonde haired man was showing footage from the concert from the night before. The five men saw themselves on stage, saw the crowds screaming, heard music critics fawning over them. "Last night was our first glimpse of what is certain to be one of the greatest new acts in show business! The Dethalbum drops Tuesday, and their world tour kicks off Wednesday! What a busy week! And that's the Dethklok minute!" As the news jingle played him off, the hot tub erupted into a chorus of cheers. "WOWEE!" said Toki. "We were on the fucking news!" lisped Murderface, who was pleased with the fact that he seemed to stand out on stage. He was too ill informed to realize that he stuck out like a sore thumb because of his very poorly applied corpse paint, but no one was interested in raining on his parade. "You weren't just on the news, boys, this is a news segment devoted entirely to you. It's called 'The Dethklok Minute,' and it will air every day at the same time. All the televisions in Mordhaus and on the Dethbus are rigged to play this segment as soon as it comes on each day. "We ams goings to be on the news every days?" asked Skwisgaar. "Yes, Skwisgaar. Every day. The hype that has been building around the release of this album has many people very excited. The world has been waiting for you," Charles said. He bit down on his tongue after he realized he'd said 'the world has been waiting for you'. That was NOT something he was supposed to disclose. He began to feel the heat coursing through his veins, flashing behind his green contacts. He pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers, trying to ride it out. He had to get out of there quickly. "Now you understand there is, ah, media attention on you now. So do your best to behave yourselves, especially in public. No more fighting," he said, looking at Skwisgaar. "Whats?" Skwisgaar said, feigning innocence. Charles rolled his burning eyes, pinched the bridge of his nose again, and let out a long suffering sigh. "Dood, don't worry," rasped Pickles. "Everything is cool." Charles looked at Pickles, tempted to scold him for talking when the nurse told him not to, but he had to stop coddling Pickles so much. Now that Dethklok was in the spotlight, there would be no room for error. "We have a lot of work to do tomorrow, so please, try to get some rest." He turned and left the room, preparing to pay for that slip of tongue. The boys paid him no mind, Pickles in particular. When he spoke up, he was hoping Charles would scold him, make him feel like he still cared. But he didn't. So Pickles shoved the hurt down, again, and sipped carefully at his drink. Nathan and Murderface resumed their conversation about 'Planet Piss', Nathan mocking and Murderface indignant. 'Planet Piss' was the first original thought he'd had since 'ExplosionFace', and he was not going to let it go. Skwisgaar and Toki whispered to one another in their mishmash of languages, and all was right in the world of Dethklok.

That night, after the bedsheets had been thrown out, burned, and replaced at Toki's command, Skwisgaar held him close. Toki settled into his spot just under Skwisgaar's chin, and Skwisgaar turned his face to settle in on Toki's head, breathing in his sweet and oddly floral scent. Toki was fast asleep already, deady bear tucked in the crook of his arm as usual, and Skwisgaar smiled in the darkness. He was crazy, Toki was crazy… hell, EVERYONE was crazy. But he had his little Bumblebee back where he belonged, in his arms. It was a very rare thing, to find someone who accepts you for who you are and in spite of all your flaws, and does not ask you to change who you are for their benefit. Skwisgaar promised himself he would always cherish that, and try to never take it for granted. No matter how many temporary women came and left, nothing mattered more to him than Toki. Maybe someday, he would learn to control himself and tell the groupies to get lost. It was a little scary, but now that the whole truth was out there, and there was nothing else to hide, they were able just be. The entire haus had taken on an air of calm, much like the calm before a storm. The album was about to drop. They were getting ready to embark on their first tour, and the whole world was watching. He pressed a kiss on the top of Toki's head. No matter what else happened, he hoped that he would never lose the love of the only person who truly understood him inside and out. He finally relaxed and let Toki's familiar scent and steady breathing lull him to sleep.

In a dark, cold, cement cellar, someone else was trying to find rest, but to no avail. He reached up and rubbed his left eye, which was now blind from the assault he suffered under the hands on Nathan Explosion. In his madness, he conveniently forgot that he had been the initial instigator, having stabbed Nathan in the back. He had shoplifted a copy of the first magazine cover to feature Dethklok… and someone else was in his place. He pulled out a polaroid photo of himself and the other members of Dethklok… Nathan, Murderface, Pickles, and Skwisgaar flanking him, and in his mind, that was the way it should have been… if they had only listened to him. Instead, they threw him out like garbage and replaced him with a wide eyed teenager with a beat up Flying V and that bastard, Skwisgaar, had taken creative control over the guitar arrangements. It burned Magnus up that the band had managed to go on without him, and flourish, in fact. They had their own news segment, for Christ's sake. He had been there in the Depths of Humanity when Dethklok performed, and he watched every single move they made. Now he lay in the cellar of the very same club, having been lowered from lead guitarist of Dethklok to bar custodian in the very same venue that his band (yes, HIS band), performed without him. The NERVE. Revenge was coming. He had promised it, and he was, without a doubt, going to deliver it. The teenage boy, the rhythm guitarist, could be the weak link. He was going to have to keep his ear to the ground, find a chance to infiltrate and destroy Dethklok from the inside out. He had sold his soul to guarantee his chance. Now all he had to do was wait, and let everything unfold as is was meant to. He threw the glossy magazine across the room, having scratched through everyone's faces but Toki's. I'm coming for you, little one, was his final thought as he finally drifted off into a fitful sleep.

Notes:

(1) Min kärlek- My love (Swedish)  
(2)Min kjærlighet- My love (Norwegian)  
(3)min enda kärlek-My only love (Swedish)


End file.
